Quotes About Memory

Everything passes, but nothing entirely goes away.

For memory, we use our imagination. We take a few strands of real time and carry them with us, then like an oyster we create a pearl around them.

Once upon a time we were all born, popped out like jelly rolls forgetting our fishdom, the pleasuring seas, the country of comfort, spanked into the oxygens of death.

I suppose we all tend to remember only the happiness from our childhood, as a sundial refuses to tell the time except in fine weather.

Most of the lyrics are over a year old, and it doesn't feel like it's about me. Time created a distance.

Things are revealed through the memories we have of them. Remembering a thing means seeing it only then for the first time.

Two things remain irretrievable: time and a first impression.

To be identified with your mind is to be trapped in time: the compulsion to live almost exclusively through memory and anticipation.

Letters remind us that when we write we can bring back the best of times, even make time stand still, if only for a few minutes.

That past is still within our living memory, a time when neighbour helped neighbour, sharing what little they had out of necessity, as well as decency.

There are whole years for which I hope I'll never be cross-examined, for I could not give an alibi.

The Photograph is concerned with the power that the past has to interfere with the present: the time bomb in the cupboard.

Ignisecond, n.: The overlapping moment of time when the hand is locking the car door even as the brain is saying, "my keys are in there!"

Anything that endures over time sacrifices its ability to make an impression.

Each fragrance bottle and name captured a moment in time perfectly.

Posterity will pay everyone their due.

Time burns but leaves no ashes.

I'm not going to talk about Picasso. I have done my duty to those memories. I have had a great career as an artist myself, you know. I'm not here just because I've spent time with Picasso.

I suspect the base that I'm working from is not particularly one of inquiry, but of memory of what I did last time.

Time is, after all, the greatest of poets; and the sons of Memory stand a better chance of being the heirs of Fame.

What we perceive as the present is the vivid fringe of memory tinged with anticipation.

All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the Shadow and the Breaking of the World. And him they named Dragon.

When does she do all this thinking? We're together all the time but she thinks deeply about things and with feeling and she can remember the facts. We've been married 48 years.

I never deny. I never contradict. I sometimes forget.