Quotes About Memory

What stays with you longest and deepest? Of curious panics, of hard-fought engagements or sieges tremendous what deepest remains?

To the living we owe respect, but to the dead we owe only the truth.

We never stop to consider that our beliefs are only a relative truth that's always going to be distorted by all the knowledge we have stored in our memory.

Still, truth is how I remember it now. In a way, I am changing the past from my desk here in the future as I write. It always happens like this. This is how we all tell our story.

It's like they've forgotten everything important, isn't it? I mean, forgotten things like cats and dancing exist.

What is there flattering, amusing, or edifying in their carving your name on a tombstone, then time rubbing off the inscription together with the gilding?

In reality nobody can grasp anything permanently in life. Absolutely nothing. Somethings may stay in memory for a while but eventually that too fades away.

sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.

We can always HIDE things AWAY.But we could NEVER FORGET them~ Your Lie In April

Truth is after you've put out all the INFO to your Soldiers in formation they'll soon forget what you said but will never forget what you did behind those words.

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.

But in that moment I understood what they say about nostalgia, that no matter if you're thinking of something good or bad, it always leaves you a little emptier afterward.

This is not for me a memory. It is a portrait of now. Of a state of being of the world.' He slowly bowed his head. 'And of freedom, for change. It portends coming change. Crushing of enemies, perhaps; a coming winter, most like. But as you will never brew exactly this brew again, so the world will never again know this time or, alas, this peace.

He looked so profoundly disappointed in me that I wondered for a moment if he was someone I knew.

A story begins with this nebulous feeling that's hard to get a hold of and you're testing your feelings and assumptions, testing what you believe. They end up turning into keepsakes and mementos—like amber in which a memory gets trapped.

That was the purpose of habit, in my grandfather's view: to render memory unnecessary.

He has the memory of a convict, the balls of a fireman, and the eyesight of a housebreaker. When there is crime to fight, Landsman tears around Sitka like a man with his pant leg caught on a rocket. It's like there's a film score playing behind him, heavy on the castanets. The problem comes in the hours when he isn't working, when his thoughts start blowing out the open window of his brain like pages from the blotter. Sometimes it takes a heavy paperweight to pin them down.

I really ought to have recognized it for what it was and, perhaps, to have stopped right there - for it was nostalgia, and what inspires nostalgia has been dead a long time

Meeting a namesake is one of the most delicate and most brief surprises.

It was him, thirty years too old, twenty pounds too light, & forty watts too dim maybe, but him.

Sitting on Rosa's moth-littered bed, he felt a resurgence of all the aches and inspirations of those days when his life had revolved around nothing but Art, when snow fell like the opening piano notes of the Emperor Concerto, and feeling horny reminded him of a passage from Nietzsche, and a thick red-streaked dollop of crimson paint in an otherwise uninteresting Velazquez made him hungry for a piece of rare meat.

His bit of pencil turned up in the seat pocket of his short trousers, but as the search for the pad continued without issue a crease appeared in the boy's domed brow. He patted himself up and down until filaments of honey floss formed between his fingertips and pockets, coating him in a gossamer down. The old man watched helpless as the boy, with mounting agitation, spun threads of loss from his palms and fingertips.

Days go by, and I don't remember not to forget..

Mr. Nostalgia figured he could look it up later if he wanted to break some small, previously unbroken place in his own leaf-buried heart.