Quotes About Memory

We mark with light in the memory the few interviews we have had with souls that made our souls wiser, that spoke what we thought, that told us what we knew, that gave us leave to be what we inly are.

A great man quotes bravely, and will not draw on his invention when his memory serves him with a word just as good.

Every man has a history worth knowing, if he could tell it, or if we could draw it from him.

The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our past act or word, because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint them. But why should you keep your head over your shoulder? Why drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or that public place? Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then?

I have forgotten the books I have read, and so I have the dinners I have eaten, but they both helped to make me.

I cannot remember the books I've read any more than the meals I've eaten; even so, they have made me.

No puedo recordar todos los libros que he leído, como no puedo recordar todas las comidas que he tomado, aún así, son quienes me han hecho»

The south-wind brings Life, sunshine, and desire, And on every mount and meadow Breathes aromatic fire, But over the dead he has no power, The lost, the lost he cannot restore, And, looking over the hills, I mourn The darling who shall not return.

Visible distance behind and before us, is respectively our image of memory and hope.

He reminded Biff of a character in a book that he'd read last summer. It was one of the most memorable and wonderful books Biff had ever read, but, as often happened, he couldn't remember the title, author, or name of the character. And yet, at the time he read it, he felt the book had enriched his life as nothing had for a long time.

Maya dice que nada desaparece para siempre, que incluso las paredes conservan los pensamientos y las acciones de lo que ocurre en su interior. Todo queda grabado, capa sobre capa.

Culture is critical in marriage because in a real sense, culture is the behavioral expression of one's values, appreciations, tastes, and relational style in both simple and serious matters of life. Add to this the dimensions of language and cultural memory, and you have worlds within worlds. In effect, culture provides the how and why of an individual's behavior.

When I returned to India for the first time after years of being gone, I wondered why I remembered those small rooms as being quite large. Was it because I didn't know any better? When Charles Dickens returned to his hometown and remarked that his city had changed, someone responded that it had not changed nearly as much as he had.

Fix the image before it fades.

We're going to meet a lot of lonely people in the next week and the next month and the next year. And when they ask us what we're doing, you can say, We're remembering. That's where we'll win out in the long run. And someday we'll remember so much that we'll build the biggest goddamn steamshovel in history and dig the biggest grave of all time and shove war in it and cover it up.

Everyone must leave something behind when he dies . . . Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die . . . It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.

Grandfather's been dead all these years, but if you lifted my skull, by God, in the convolutions of my brain you'd find the big ridges of his thumbprint. He touched me. As I said earlier, he was a sculptor. 'I hate a Roman named Status Quo!' he said to me. 'Stuff your eyes with wonder,' he said, 'live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.

Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them, at all. The magic is only in what the books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.

The rain continued. It was a hard rain, a perpetual rain, a sweating and steaming rain; it was a mizzle, a downpour, a fountain, a whipping at the eyes, an undertow at the ankles; it was a rain to drown all rains and the memory of rains.

No sound, once made, is ever truly lost. In electric clouds, all are safely trapped, and with a touch, if we find them, we can recapture those echoes of sad, forgotten wars, long summers, and sweet autumns.

I take this continent with me into the grave.

Perhaps I'm not their dead one back, but I'm something almost better to them; an ideal shaped by their minds.

Memory is an illusion, nothing more. It is a fire that needs constant tending.

Pasamos la vida entera aprendiendo a olvidar cosas que en realidad están dentro