Quotes About Memory

I sell ideas. Actually, if you think about it, everything is really no more than idea. The past is nothing more than a memory, which is one kind of idea. The future is still a hope, another kind of idea. The present is fleeting and becomes a memory before you can put your hands on it. All ideas. I sell ideas.

And he wants you to keep that at the front of your mind? He wants you to stay focused on the darkest seasons of your life? How could that possibly do any good?' . . . He wants you to remember who delivered you from that time. That's the point of holding on to memory: delivery, not darkness.

Not wonderful that you've forgotten, mind you. Wonderful that you have so much to discover.

The temptation to forget is woven into the fabric of these... costumes.

Actually, if you think about it, everything is really no more than idea. The past is nothing more than a memory, which is one kind of idea. The future is still a hope, another kind of idea. The present is fleeting and becomes a memory before you can put your hands on it. All ideas.

But the jewel you lost was blue.

That night was nothing but getting to know how smooth your body is. The memory of it goes through me like brandy.

The little hearts you painted on everything Remained, like the track of your panic. The splashes of a wound

The Mind of a Mnemonist

Wer ein schlechtes Gedächtnis hat, dem bleibt keine andere Wahl als die Wahrheit zu sagen.

I didn't go to the moon, I went much further—for time is the longest distance between two places

Has it ever struck you that life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quick you hardly catch it going?

Laws of silence don't work.... When something is festering in your memory or your imagination, laws of silence don't work, it's just like shutting a door and locking it on a house on fire in hope of forgetting that the house is burning. But not facing a fire doesn't put it out. Silence about a thing just magnifies it. It grows and festers in silence, becomes malignant....

Memory takes a lot of poetic licence. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart. The interior is therefore rather dim and poetic.

When I had that attack of pleurosis - he asked me what was the matter when I came back. I said pleurosis - he thought that I said Blue Roses! So that's what he always called me after that. Whenever he saw me, he'd holler, Hello, Blue Roses!

Life is all memory except for the one present moment that goes by so quick you can hardly catch it going.

Everything that is tearing us down today will become a memory, and this memory will be shared as an anecdote or a story or a poem or a play or a warning. It will be shared with another human being, who will then understand that he is not alone in his sadness. This is why we show up for others and tell our tales and listen to others. The great congregation meets daily, and you are someone's angel today. (In an Interview with James Grissom)

When something is Festering on your memory or in your imagination, laws of silence don't work, it's just like shutting a door and locking it on a house on fire in hope of forgetting that the house is burning. But not facing a fire doesn't put it out. Silence about a thing just magnifies it. It grows and festers in silence, becomes malignant...

I met her last summer on a moonlight boat trip...

This play is dedicated to the memory of Clarence Darrow , The Great Defender, whose mental frontiers were the four corners of the sky.

But what was

Margy] pressed her fingers to her lips in thought. "You know, some of the folks up in Cossayuharie are bound to remember what happened back then." "Oh, yeah. I'm sure there are plenty of geezers left in Millers Kill who still have opinions about it, too." She shot [Russ] a look. "Watch it, junior. You're practically a geezer yourself these days.

What has been seen cannot be unseen

he were a young man, he might believe he would never forget her skin, or her smile, or the strength of her. But he had learned that the mind didn't always hold on to what the heart demanded. Remember, he told his hands. Remember this.