Quotes About Memory

Each person leaves a legacy -- a single, small piece of herself, which makes richer each individual life and the collective life of humanity as a whole.

He apprisiated my singing I will say that for him altho always asking why didnt I sing like Oh you beautiful doll which you are too young to remember and so am I but the story I hear is that when the Titantic went down (a ship) people sang it or hummed a couple bars and then said the hell with this and jumped the hell off the boat so they would not have to finish singing it.

Aging changes your relationship with history.

There was no question in my mind on that muggy August day that within less than a year - and on my father's birthday - Look Back in Anger would have opened, in what still seems like an inordinately long, sharp and glimmering summer.

Jimmy: One day, when I'm no longer spending my days running a sweet-stall, I may write a book about us all. It's all here. (slapping his forehead) Written in flames a mile high. And it won't be recollected in tranquillity either, picking daffodils with Auntie Wordsworth. It'll be recollected in fire, and blood. My blood.

And death, for those who live on, is the end of a chapter rather than the end of a book, and although the dead may have no more part to play as characters, their influence may continue right though the story.

1) Singing can help us remember words, which means that we should use melodies that are effective, sing words that God wants us to remember

The origin of the political relations between the United States and France is coeval with the first years of our independence. The memory of it is interwoven with that of our arduous struggle for national existence. Weakened as it has occasionally been since that time, it can by us never be forgotten, and we should hail with exultation the moment which should indicate a recollection equally friendly in spirit on the part of France.

Oh! God, my only trust went there Through all life's scenes before Lo! At the throne again I bow, New mercies to implore. Grant active power, grant fervent zeal, And guide by thy control, And ever be my country's weal The purpose of my soul. Extend, all seeing God, thy hand In memory still decree And make, to bless thy native land An instrument of me. -September 21, 1817

Make no mistake. The genes we're born with carry memory. They carry knowledge we've never learned, talents we've never studied, even fear of things that have never frightened us. but someone, in some time out of mind, had these memories. Yes, you might say that all of us are haunted. You might very well say that.?

Photography threatens because photography implies notice and permanent record.

And throughout the days that followed—and will follow forever—I will discover him in my memories, and hopelessly—through the infinite miles that separate life from death—try to understand his torture: in searching out the shape of my own.

And the fierce wind is an echo of angry childhood and of a very scared boy looking out the window—remembering my dead dog outside by the wounded house as the gray Texas dust gradually covered her up—and thinking: It isnt fair! Why cant dogs go to Heaven?

Memory is too unreliable to be 'truthful'.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them. "Ode of Remembrance" Lawrence Binyon

We may live without her, and worship without her, but we cannot remember without her. How cold is all history, how lifeless all imagery, compared to that which the living nation writes, and the uncorrupted marble bears

My father was a very great man. I will never forget the last thing he ever said to me. Nor will I ever repeat it.

She felt that she'd been watching a shadow. A shadow of the dead.

All my life until that night, I'd never heard such a horrible and unforgettable sound. When I did, I woke with a start,

A Curse Against Elegies": I refuse to remember the dead. And the dead are bored with the whole thing. But you—you go ahead, go on, go on back down into the graveyard, lie down where you think their faces are; talk back to your old bad dreams.

Her limbs shrivelled and brittle, her skin wrinkled like a dry peach, her mind like a sponge squeezed out, with trickles of memories now and then to moisten it. And then there was gin:

It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.

Every contact leaves a trace.

I made an effort to speak: "When I came in here…" I said, "… I had a sandwich." "That was three months ago," said the doctor. I looked at him. "It's gone," he said, gently. I lapsed back into unconsciousness.