Quotes About Memory

John Wulgaru, she thought when she got back. Her hands were shaking. Is that his name, then? Am I the only person who knows that? Or the only person still alive?

Of all the songs we Zida'ya sing, she (Aditu) murmured, the closest to our hearts are those which tell of things lost. Perhaps that is because none of us can show something's value until it is gone, said Josua.

Never make your home in a place," the old man had said, too lazy in the spring warmth to do more than wag a finger. "Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it—memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things." Morgenes had grinned. "That way it will go with you wherever you journey. You'll never lack for a home—unless you lose your head, of course . .

Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your head. You'll find what you need to furnish it - memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey. You'll never lack for a home - unless you lose your head, of course...

Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it--memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey. You'll never lack for a home--unless you lose your head, of course...

My mother was mad, as I suppose I too am now mad. What else can people be who have their entire lives snatched away from them, and for no greater crime than being what they are? The choking, stifling unfairness of it is a permanent sore -- one that can be lived with but never forgotten.

Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself in your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it - memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. This way it will go with you wherever you journey

Jedini spomen mene nalazio se u jednoj re?enici zapisanoj nekoliko mjeseci ranije - Breda je danas sretna. Bilo mi je neobi?no blno što je moj o?uh to primijetio i zabilježio

Never make your home in a place," the old man had said, too lazy in the spring warmth to do more than wag a finger. "Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it—memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things." Morgenes had grinned. "That way it will go with you wherever you journey. You'll never lack for a home—unless you lose your head, of course . . .

Snowbébé, you've probably forgotten by now, but... Once, you looked at my body—my hairless body—and said it was pretty. So you see, your words made me so very happy. I always thought I was unattractive...

At a mixer at the Art and Architecture School, I met Ray Connors. He had small, worried eyes and fine, babyish hair, already receding. His back was hurting him; two years ago he had fallen down an elevator shaft. He was graduating from the Architecture School in January. He went off to get me a glass of wine; by the time he came back, I had practically forgotten his existence.

She felt stupid, though she knew she wasn't. She was intelligent, had always been an A student and an overachiever. The fact that her short-term memory came and went didn't make her less intelligent. It just made her feel that way—which made her think other people would feel the same way about her. They would think of her as brain-damaged.

Because the brain stores emotional memories and the physical details of what happened in two separate places. This is oversimplifying

Do you know, sire, I think that if we live to tell our grandchildren about this war, they will accuse us of making it up.' -Marielle

You don't think history gets rewritten, sometimes?

Every sweet thing I see reminds me of some other thing, which is bitter.

What I remember is impossible. Against the law of God.' 'Why should you suppose that? You must permit God to grasp His own law rather better than fallible man, who has perhaps misunderstood.

Here she forgot her country, all but a ghost of it, only the voices of her ancestors, her race, reminded her, and sometimes her dreams.

Living With The Dead Molly Brown I

She realized now, fully, how strong the magic of Kernik, Prince of Conjurors, must be. Strong and awesome, to sweep away the memory of a whole night of wonders as a broom sweeps away the trace of birds' feet in the snow. Truly he was a person to be respected and feared, and it would be safe and intelligent to forget entirely his magnificent coming and that sly going that she had not been meant to see. But of course she could not, and acknowledged simultaneously why she could not.

If you're reading this, Alysha Catherine, I'm dead. Don't make a fuss—it's a state we all come to in the end. Except possibly for Jane who may be too mean to die.

And sometimes those remembered images aren't even accurate; in revisiting some of the movies I discuss here, I've been surprised to realize that what I remember about a particular movie moment, the influential lesson that has stayed with me—how to kiss in the rain, what to say to my shell-shocked parents about their divorce, where in the linen closet to hide the liquor—sometimes doesn't actually exist in the film. It's a trick of memory

and even if someone told us we'd forget

The memory is a muscle, the more you use it, the stronger it gets.