Quotes About Memory

Her alanda as?l yenilgi unutmakt?r, özellikle de sizi neyin gebertmiÅŸ olduÄŸunu unutmak,insanlar?n ne derece h?rt olduklar?n? asla anlayamadan gebermektir.

You can lose your way groping among the shadows of the past. It's frightening how many people and things there are in a man's past that have stopped moving. The living people we've lost in the crypts of time sleep so soundly side by side with the dead that the same darkness envelops them all. As we grow older, we no longer know whom to awaken, the living or the dead.

People, countries, and objects all end up as smells.

After all, when our egoism lets us go for a while, when it comes time to throw it off, the only women whose memory you cherish in your hearts are the ones who really loved men a little, not just one man, even if it was you, but the whole lot.

You can lose your way groping among the shadows of the past. It's frightening how many people and things there are in a man's past that have stopped moving.

La grande défaite, en tout, c'est d'oublier, et surtout ce qui vous a fait crever.

Les vivants qu'on égare dans les cryptes du temps dorment si bien avec les morts qu'une même ombre les confond déjà.

Si elle n'est plus belle, eh bien tant pis ! Nous nous arrangerons ! J'ai gardé tant de beauté d'elle en moi, si vivace, si chaude que j'en ai bien pour tous les deux et pour au moins vingt ans encore, le temps d'en finir.

Invocar la posteridad es hacer un discurso a los gusanos.

I'm doddering around like an old bumblebee, I'm all tangled up in the air, Ah sees it, I ain't tellin' things in the right order, what about it! You'll excuse me somewhat, kidding about my memories, digressing from rhyme to reason, jabbering away about my friends instead of showing you around!...Let's go! and let's keep going!...Let me show you around nicely...straying neither right nor left!...

gone out somewhere—had he

Mommy and Daddy," Quinn gasped. "Grandma will kill you when she finds out you took it," Allie said. "We weren't ready," Quinn said as if hypnotized. "We weren't ready to scatter their ashes. How could I just leave them there?

Sometimes the briefest moments capture us, force us to take them in, and demand that we live the rest of our lives in reference to them.

I used to think that once you really knew a thing, its truth would shine on forever. Now it's pretty obvious to me that more often than not the batteries fade, and sometimes what you knew even goes out with a bang when you try and call on it, just like a light bulb cracking off when you throw the switch.

I used to think truth was eternal, that once I knew, once I saw, it would be with me forever, a constant by which everything else could be measured. I know now that this isn't so, that most truths are inherently unretainable, that we have to work hard all our lives to remember the most basic things.

While our bodies move ever forward on the time line, our minds continuously trace backward, seeking shape and meaning as deftly as any arrow seeking its mark. . . Sometimes it is as difficult to know what the past holds as it is to know the future, and just as an answer to a riddle seems so obvious once it is revealed, it seems curious to me now that I passed through all those early moments with no idea of their weight.

I've read somewhere that 'our dead are never dead until we have forgotten them.' Matthew will never be dead to me, for I can never forget him.

They lingered in the old gardens until twilight, sweet as dusk in Eden must have been" "There was nobody else for me but you. I've loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school

Suppose that the colour struck you as brighter on one day than on another; would you sometimes say: I must be wrong, that colour is certainly the same as yesterday? This shews that we do not always resort to what memory tells us as the verdict of the highest court of appeal.

The man, the writer, the instrument of the creation will die, but his creation does not die.

Un'ora breve di dolore c'impressiona lungamente; un giorno passa e non lascia traccia.

Il ricordo non è altro che il riconoscimento di realtà passate, che restano in noi come un sogno. E sarà sogno domani per noi la realtà d'oggi.

Io non l'ho più questo bisogno, perché muoio ogni attimo, io, e rinasco nuovo e senza ricordi: vivo e intero, non più in me, ma in ogni cosa fuori

But only in order to know if you, as you really are now, see yourself as you once were with all the illusions that were yours then, with all the things both inside and outside of you as they seemed to you—as they were then indeed for you.