Quotes About Memory

O teach me how I should forget to think

On a striped mattress in one room An old man is vanishing.

memory throws a kind of halo around him.

Laughing Lazarus. And I forget the moments of radiance. I must get them down in print. Make them up in print. Be honest.

Your shelled bed I remember Father, this thick air is murderous I would breathe water

Dusk hoods me in blue now, like a Mary. O colour of distance and forgetfulness!

My apologies to past loves for treating the latest as the first.

These fragments I have shored against my ruins Je veux de ces fragments étayer mes ruines ???????????????

What you hear, you forget; what you see, you remember; what you do, you understand.

vertiginous wall, looking back to the big cylinder

Stebbins sighed quietly and shifted some papers. "We call it confabulation," he said. "Invention, exaggeration, chronological transposition. Some amnesic patients can invent perfectly logical and believable events that never took place. Some

You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer.

And we will take heart for the future, remembering the past.

Beveridge] was a driven man, right to the end; his last words, enunciated clearly from his death bed at the age of eighty-four, showed that the aging social reformer was still haunted by the memory of those sick men on the East London streets. 'I have a thousand things to do,' he said, and died.

So I find words I never thought to speak In streets I never thought I should revisit When I left my body on a distant shore.

For you know only a heap of broken images

Footfalls echo in the memory down the passage we did not take towards the door we never opened into the rose garden. My words echo thus, in your mind

Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow

The historical sense involves a perception, not only of the pastness of the past, but of its presence

And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

Every street lamp that I pass Beats like a fatalistic drum, And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

What might have been and and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened...

She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: "Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over". When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone

The difference between the present and the past is that the conscious present is an awareness of the past in a way and to an extent which the past's awareness of itself cannot show.