Quotes About Memory

For both of us, it had simply been too enormous an experience. We shared it by not talking about it . Does this make any sense?

It's easy to forget things you don't need anymore.

Somewhere in his body--perhaps in the marrow of his bones--he would continue to feel her absence.

With each passing moment I'm becoming part of the past. There is no future for me, just the past steadily accumulating.

We each have a special something we can get only at a special time of our life. like a small flame. A careful, fortunate few cherish that flame, nurture it, hold it as a torch to light their way. But once that flame goes out, it's gone forever.

What we call the present is given shape by an accumulation of the past.

The dead will always be dead, but we have to go on living.

Memory is so crazy! It's like we've got these drawers crammed with tons of useless stuff. Meanwhile, all the really important things we just keep forgetting, one after the other.

Like you're riding a train at night across some vast plain, and you catch a glimpse of a tiny light in a window of a farmhouse. In an instant it's sucked back into the darkness behind and vanishes. But if you close your eyes, that point of light stays with you, just barely for a few moments.

Some things are forgotten, some things disappear, some things die.

Our memory is made up of our individual memories and our collective memories. The two are intimately linked. And history is our collective memory. If our collective memory is taken from us - is rewritten - we lose the ability to sustain our true selves.

Everything, everything seemed once-upon-a-time.

Precipitate as weather, she appeared from somewhere, then evaporated, leaving only memory.

Those were strange days, now that I look back at them. In the midst of life, everything revolved around death.

I would never see her again, except in memory. She was here, and now she's gone. There is no middle ground. Probably is a word that you may find south of the border. But never, ever west of the sun.

Memory is like fiction; or else it's fiction that's like memory.

What if I've forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories are heaped and slowly turning into mud?...the thought fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow.

Sitting on the floor, I'd replay the past in my head. Funny, that's all I did, day after day after day for half a year, and I never tired of it. What I'd been through seemed so vast, with so many facets. Vast, but real, very real, which was why the experience persisted in towering before me, like a monument lit up at night. And the thing was, it was a monument to me.

The song is over. But the melody lingers on.

If you think of someone enough, you're sure to meet them again.

History cannot be erased or altered.Because that would mean killing yourself.

What if I've forgotten the most important thing?

She was truly a beautiful girl. I could feel a small polished stone sinking through the darkest waters of my heart. All those deep convoluted channels and passageways, and yet she managed to toss her pebble right down to the bottom of it all.

The pillow smells like the sunlight, a precious smell.