Quotes About Memory

There was no way I could forget, since I've done nothing but think about it since I got out of your car last night. I thought about kissing you for the rest of the night. I dreamed about it. And kissing you was the first thing I thought about when I opened my eyes this morning.

Like a dream, Whatever I enjoy Will become a memory; The past is not revisited.

I can't remember the names of all the clubs we went to.

The past is never really gone. It only lies in wait for you, remembered or forgotten.

It's my choice today that is the memory of tomorrow. It's my choice that determines what I will become. Not the memories of the past.

It's a natural thing, little girl, to let a memory fade. Like chiseling stone. If the carving is shallow, then the picture just wears itself away. And even if it is chiseled in good and deep, the edges still smooth out, soften. Time has a kindness like that. That's as it should be…

Nadia," she says, very softly. I lean forward, straining to hear. Her expression has changed, drawn, as if in pain. "She's gone," she whispers. "The bed is empty." "Who, Mother?" "Nadia," she says again. "Her book is wrong. It's not Nadia's book." I know Mother. But it was only ever the book that was wrong. Not the daughter. Never the daughter.

But who can find the truth in Canaan? Janis doesn't tell it, the Learning Room doesn't teach it. My father has twisted it, Mother half forgotten it, and the Forgetting is the thief that steals it.

And what did I think when I was small and why did I forget? And what else will I forget when I grow older? And if you forget is it as if it never happened? Will none of the things you saw or thought or dreamed matter?

Alguien dijo una vez "Un amigo escucha la melodía en mi corazón y me la canta cuando mi memoria falla".

I should like to freeze in time all those I do love...Rather like flowers pressed between the pages of a book!

I should like to freeze in time all those I do love, keep them somehow safe from the ravages of the passing years..."Rather like flowers pressed between the pages of a book!

How many times you figure on firing me?" Pat Rin yos'Phelium sighed. "Refresh my memory, Mr. McFarland. How many times have I succeeded in firing you thus far?

Long as you remember, ain't nothin' really gone.

Deleted the memory—need room for facts," I took the time to type.

Here's the thing: I'm ridiculously smart, and I'm pretty sure I have a photographic memory. It's like I have a camera in my head, and if I see or hear something, I click it, and it stays. I saw a special on PBS once on children who were geniuses. These kids could remember complicated strands of numbers and recall words and pictures in correct sequence and quote long passages of poetry. So can I.

I can tell you we were right, our bodies were right, life was really going to be that good, that pleasurable in every cell. Suddenly I remember the exact look of your body, but better than that the bright corners of your eyes, or the light of your face, the rich Long Island puppy-fat of your thighs, or the slick chino of your pants bright in the corners of my eyes, I remember your extraordinary act of courage in loving me

I want to say to him, now, What was it like, to love me—when you looked at me, what did you see?

And no, he does not want to meet again, in a year—when we part, it is with a dry bow and Good-bye.

And so he went into another world—this world, where I do not see or hear him

Maybe I'm half over who he was, but not who I thought he was, and not over the wound, sudden deathblow as if out of nowhere, though it came from the core of our life together.

Sleep and dream—but not of his return.

I had not remembered how deep he held himself inside himself

In the old photo, we are sitting, my sister upright, like a falls—her bridalveil spine, the ferro plumbline of her hair—and I, I hunched over, tongue sticking out, jaws working like a pair of kindergarten scissors.