Quotes About Memory

I realized I was humming "Uncle John's Band" to myself for no good reason.

I don't know anyone's name. If one of those women died, I couldn't even say, "Poor old Mrs. Zalinsky died." I'd have to say, "That mean old bitch across the street bit it." Feeling

She began walking away from me, down the hallway—luminous white living rooms and sitting rooms and reading rooms blooming out on all sides—and I studied her. It was the first time we'd seen each other in almost a year. My hair was a different color—brown from red—but she didn't seem to notice. She looked exactly the same, though, not much older than I am now, although she's in her late forties. Glowing pale skin

His brain was sticky, phrases and snatches of songs were always wedging themselves in there. Annihilation. He saw flashes of Norse barbarians swinging axes. He wondered for a second, only a second, if he'd been reincarnated, and this was some leftover memory, flittering down like ash. Then he picked up his bike and banished the idea. He wasn't ten.

no entiendo por qué necesito demostrarte mi amor recordando exactamente las mismas cosas que tú, exactamente de la misma manera que las recuerdas tú.

A veces mis cicatrices tienen vida propia.

I made a mental note to take a smiling, pretty photo of myself in case I ever disappeared.

No consigo recordar ni una sola cosa asombrosa que haya visto en persona que no me recordase de inmediato a una película o a un programa de televisión

Di solito non ho la sensazione di esistere. Ho l'impressione che una folata di vento possa spazzarmi via, facendomi scomparire per sempre, senza lasciare di me neppure un frammento di unghia. In certi giorni il pensiero mi pare rassicurante, in certi altri mi raggela. La sensazione di inconsistenza deriva, suppongo, dal fatto che so così poco del mio passato, o se non altro questa è la conclusione a cui arrivati gli strizzacervelli all'ospedale.

I've thought about you a lot over these years, been wondering about you. That's what you do in here … think and wonder. Every once in a while someone'll write me about you. But it's not the same.

never entirely erased the stink, though—she must have one rank pussy)

But in truth, I think she's always had more problems with children than she'd ever admit. I think, in fact, she hates them. There's a jealousy, a resentfulness that I can feel even now, in my memory.

There's something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold

I've got to get him out of my head—he still steps on my lines from a hundred miles away.)

When I think of my wife, I always think of her head.

Mom. Stepdad." A half sister born when I was in college, her existence so unreal to me I often forgot her name. Amma. And then Marian, always long-gone Marian.

When do you turn sixteen again?" "July thirteenth

When I was a kid, I lived with Runner's second cousin in Holcomb, Kansas, for about five months

When I think of my wife, I always think of her head. The shape of it

Todo el mundo tiene su propia versión de un recuerdo

Flash of Marian, now bones in a coffin, a white satin ribbon wrapped around dried blonde curls, like some bouquet gone stale.

I can't recall a single amazing thing I have seen firsthand that I didn't immediately reference to a movie or TV show.

É impossível competir com os mortos. Eu gostaria de conseguir parar de tentar.

Ho visto le vittime. Vere, reali, ho ancora negli occhi le loro facce di esseri umani sofferenti. Non credere una parola, quando diranno che hanno «sconfitto il terrorismo». Sono bugie, enormi bugie. Che difenderanno con i denti per copripre i propri crimini e i propri interessi. Ma i morti e i feriti sono lì; se ne trovano i resti e la memoria, se si ha il coraggio di farlo.