Quotes About Memory

Sometimes I get the feeling that everything that happened to me was some kind of illusion. It's as though something happened to make me think that things happened that never really happened at all. But I know for sure that they did happen.

El conocimiento es así. El mundo cambia según nuestra percepción. Existe, sin duda alguna, aquí y de esta forma, pero, desde el punto de vista fenoménico el mundo no es sino una posibilidad entre un número infinito de posibilidades. Para ser más preciso, el mundo cambia según dé uno un paso hacia la derecha o hacia la izquierda. Por lo tanto, el mundo se modifica a medida que cambian los recuerdos.

Grasping the doorknob, Tengo turned around one last time and was shocked to see a single tear running down from his father's eye. It shone a dull silver color under the ceiling's fluorescent light. To release that tear, his father must have squeezed every bit of strength from what little emotion he still had left.

Long after the firefly had disappeared, the trail of its light remained inside me, its pale, faint glow hovering on and on in the thick darkness behind my eyelids like a lost soul. More than once I tried stretching my hand out in the dark. My fingers touched nothing. The faint glow remained, just beyond my grasp.

That box contains the 'something' that was inside you. You didn't know that when you carried it here and gave it to Keiko with your own hands. Now you'll never get it back.

I'll never forget you, I said. I could never forget you.

I never had a cat again. I still like cats, though I decided at the time that that poor little cat who climbed the tree and never returned would be my first and last cat. I couldn't forget that little cat and start loving another.

Somewhere inside me, there was still preserved a broad, open space, untouched, for Naoko and no one else.

as individuals each of us is extremely isolated, while at the same time we are all linked by a prototypical memory.

He'd only seen photos of her, but felt a wave of nostalgia like he was meeting a long-?lost friend.

The things that his death gave rise to are still there, bright and clear, inside me, some of them even clearer than when they were new.

I know, too, why she asked me not to forget her. Naoko herself knew, of course. She knew that my memories of her would fade. Which is precisely why she begged me never to forget her, to remember that she had existed. The thought fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow. Because Naoko never loved me.

His mind floated in the amniotic fluid of memory, listening for echoes of the past. His father, meanwhile, had no idea that such a vivid scene was burned into Tengo's brain or that, like a cow in the meadow, Tengo was endlessly regurgitating fragments of the scene to chew on, a cud from which he obtained essential nutrients. Father and son: each was locked in a deep, dark embrace with his secrets.

Nothing stayed still. And time was lost. Behind me, time became dead grains of sand, which one after another gave way and vanished.

I have thought that the word America must mean different things to the people who live under its aegis. I would that for each of them it might be symbolized by one -- at least one -- memory of some aspect of unspoiled nature. America -- wide, far-reaching, insouciant -- has been the amphitheater for our civilization. I wish each of us could appreciate its vast beauty, and could see how far the elements of our civilization fall short of the sheer majesty of our America.

I personally believed that the bathroom door should be kept shut at all times, ever since my hamster Skippy had escaped from his little cage and mysteriously drowned in my potty chair. My sister could do a dreadfully accurate imitation of the look on Skippy's face when we found him, and she preferred to perform it at odd times, just so I would never forget that I was implicated in the death of an innocent rodent.

I wish memory were a more steady, more physical artifact. It's just a breeze, or a scent barely detected and fading.

They named you Taos because that's where they went on their honeymoon, and there was something in it, something beyond the sentimental or nostalgic, they were trying to say: once we went so far. And you were how far they went. There is no more distant star, I now believe.

Langston, don't you know how Alice died? Where have you been? What goes on with you that you are so completely free of anyone else's story? My God.

Strangely, there has never been a definitive source of information about Mooreland during a certain fifteen-year period, perhaps because there are so few people left who can reliably tell it.

Once you have met someone, you never really forget them.

Once you've met someone you really never forget them; it just takes a while for your memory to return

Who doesn't cry when they hear, "Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?

There was a scent called Five Minutes Before It Rains. If you put it on your neck, whoever kissed you would cry.