Quotes About Memory

Thou Shalt Not is soon forgotten, but Once Upon a Time is forever.

It took me a long time to get used to the reality that my grandmother had passed away. Wherever I was, in the house, in the garden, out on the fields, her face always appeared so clearly to me.

You draw on your own childhood every time you tee it up as an actor.

I knew that it wouldn't last. It was just a moment, a perfect moment, as time stood still and fleetingly everything fell back into its proper place.

I try not to think about legacy because it is all ­folly. If you study history, even recent history, you'll find many people who were quite significant in their time but are completely forgotten.

The past is all holy to us; the dead are all holy; even they that were wicked when alive.

A lot like yesterday, a lot like never.

It's probably why I'm a short story writer. I tend to remember things in the past in narrative form, in story form, and I grew up around people who told stories all the time.

Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost.

The true picture of the past flits by. The past can be seized only as an image which flashes up at the instant when it can be recognized and is never seen again.

The centuries will burn rich loads With which we groaned, Whose warmth shall lull their dreaming lids, While songs are crooned: But they will not dream of us poor lads, Left in the ground.

What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time?

Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet, Thine odor like a key, Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let A thought of sorrow free.

It is only what is written upon the soul of man that will survive the wreck of time.

Gone! gone forever!-like a rushing wave Another year has burst upon the shore Of earthly being-and its last low tones, Wandering in broken accents in the air, Are dying to an echo.

I saw Len Hutton in his prime, Another time, another time.

Wherever anything lives, there is, open somewhere, a register in which time is being inscribed.

We seem but to linger in manhood to tell the dreams of our childhood, and they vanish out of memory ere we learn the language.

Marriage is memory, marriage is time.

You ask me, How much time? I do not know. I know it means time enough to forget time.

The work of memory collapses time.

You count on it, you rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then, just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.

We met at nine We met at eight I was on time No, you were late Ah yes! I remember it well.

Time, the greatest thief of all.