Quotes About Memory

It had been a war of kingly poisons, in the air, in the memory, in the blood.

I miss her face, its beauty, and its beauty lost.

Memory, I must suppose, if it is neglected becomes like a box room, or a lumber room in an old house, the contents jumbled about, maybe not only from neglect but also from too much haphazard searching in them, and things to boot thrown in that don't belong there.

my mother's wits were now in an attic of her head which had neither door nor stair, or at least none that I could find.

Of course I was young, very young, but, as I remember it, no one is ever quite so old as a fifteen-year-old girl.

Four men killed that day. The phrase sat up in Willie's head like a rat and made a nest for itself there

There are some sufferings that we seem as a creature to forget, or we would never survive as a creature among all the other creatures.

We may be immune to typhoid, tetanus, chickenpox, diphtheria, but never memory. There is no inoculation against that.

Oh dear, oh dear, I sat there. I am sitting there still. I am old enough to know that time passing is just a trick, a convenience. Everything is always there, still unfolding, still happening. The past, the present, and the future, in the noggin eternally, like brushes, combs and ribbons in a handbag.

A man's memory might have only a hundred clear days in it and he has lived thousands.

There is only a whisper of time between then and now, it seems to me. The clock of the heart does not follow the one on the mantelpiece.

Names, names, all passed away, forgotten, mere birdsong in the bushes of things.

All that remains of me now is a rumour of beauty.

There was nothing to see but in my mind's eye I could see everything, because she had supplied the ancient cinema of this place.

To remember sometimes is a great sorrow, but when the remembering has been done, there comes afterwards a very curious peacefulness. Because you have planted your flag on the summit of the sorrow. You have climbed it.

Grief is about two years long, they say, it is a platitude out of manuals for grievers. But we are in mourning for our mothers before even we are born.

may be immune to typhoid, tetanus, chickenpox, diphtheria, but never memory. There is no inoculation against that.

guess I had no choice in the matter. Once your mother is taken from you you can't ever catch up with her again. You can't cry out 'Wait for me' when the winds turn cold under a wolf moon and she has walked far ahead of you across the grasses searching for wood.

again. 'I do remember terrible dark things, and loss, and noise, but it is like one of those terrible dark pictures that hang in churches, God knows why, because you cannot see a thing in them.' 'Mrs McNulty, that is a beautiful description of traumatic memory.

A child is never the author of his own history. I suppose this is well known.

We knew we was just fragments of legend and had never really existed in that town. There is no better feeling.

But we only have one path across the mire of remembrance in general.

A memory so clear, so wonderful, so beyond the bounds of possibility. I know it. My head is as clear as a glass.

In this makeshift place Willie Dunne discovered a peace of sorts. Yes the wild guns struck their great notes in the distance like the bells of a horrific city. Hearts asleep in the shires of England close upon the sea must heard them too. But he fell down between the boards of memory and sleep like a penny in an old floor. But he fell down between the boards of memory and sleep like a penny in an old floor. He lay there in the dust of nowhere, sunken and alone.