Quotes About Memory

He did not think of the ten years: What remained of them tonight was only a feeling which he could not name, except that it was quiet and solemn. The feeling was a sum, and he did not have to count again the parts that had gone to make it.

She knew that neither his clothes nor the years stood between her and the living intactness of that memory.

God, I've missed you! he said, and knew that he had, every day since he'd seen her last and most of all, perhaps on the days when he had not thought of her

We have met once," she said, "at the Holcombes. If Mr. Roark remembers.

Él sonrió, no del todo a ella, sino como divertido ante un repentino recuerdo suyo.

The prisoners liked to talk about their past. Their memories were the only future they had.

He realized that he was thinking of his past, as if certain days of it were spread before him, demanding to be seen again.

Do you expect me to forget what you are?" he asked, knowing that this was what he had forgotten. "I do not expect you to think of me at all.

That doesn't matter. Not even that they'll destroy it. Only that it had existed." She

Whatever the legend, somewhere in the shadows of its memory mankind knew that its glory began with one and that that one paid for his courage.

Humans have far longer memories than do animals and, thus revenge -the social settling of accounts with those who offended them- assumes a wholly new level with them.

Going away isn't going to help as much as you think. The memory stays with you, and the stain. It's not something you slough off once you leave.

THOSE WHO ARE CLOSE TO US, when they die, divide our world.

In another Nabokov novel, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight , Sebastian's brother discovers two seemingly incongruous pictures in his dead brother's library: a pretty, curly-haired child playing with a dog and a Chinese man in the act of being beheaded. The two pictures remind us of the close relation between banality and brutality.

The facts in this story are true insofar as any memory is ever truthful, but I have made every effort to protect friends and students, baptizing them with new names and disguising them perhaps even from themselves, changing and interchanging facets of their lives so that their secrets are safe.

This is Tehran for me: its absences were more real than its presences.

As Fitzgerald puts it, "No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

La mia generazione aveva assaggiato la libertà individuale e l'aveva perduta; per quanto questo fosse doloroso, c'era comunque il ricordo a proteggerci dal deserto del presente. Le nuove generazioni, invece, su che cosa potevano contare? I loro desideri, la loro voglia di esprimersi si manifestavano nei modi più bizzarri.

Certain memories, like the imaginary balloons Yassi made with her delicate hands when she was happy, rise from somewhere in the depths of what we call memory. Like balloons, these memories are light and bright and irretrievable, despite the 'air sadness' (Bellow's term) surrounding them.

I fail to remember, the mind has fuses.

It is so easy to invent, by mistake, not remember what was there, what is truly remembered?

Di Indonesia, kekuasaan diperlihatkan secara terang-terangan, tidak pandang bulu, terbuka, selalu segar dalam ingatan.

Power. The word fixed in my mother's mind like a curse. In America, it had generally remained hidden from view until you dug beneath the surface of things; until you visited an Indian reservation or spoke to a black person whose trust you had earned. But here power was undisguised, indiscriminate, naked, always fresh in the memory.

And under the fanning shade of the mango tree, as hands wove black curls into even rows, I heard all our voices begin to run together, the sound of three generations tumbling over each other like the currents of a slow-moving stream, my questions like rocks roiling the water, the breaks in memory separating the currents, but always the voices returning to that single course, a single story Ã¢â'¬Â¦.