Quotes About Memory

When I started to write about my family, no abstract or conceptual language could account for the world I was trying to capture." —Frank Bidart

La ?aptezeci ?i doi de ani, viitorul e ceea ce jelesc. Din facultate n-am uitat-o niciodat? pe Ma?a în Pesc?ru?ul spunând Sunt în doliu dup? via?a mea.

Sometimes something vanishes, and afterwards you can't stop looking at the place where it used to be.

What I remember is being on the moon. I remember every second. Every stone. Every star we saw. Sometimes it feels like I never really came back." - spoken by character Alan Bean

She glances at the photo, and the pilot light of memory flickers in her eyes.

James left us, taking his great, informed soul with him.

Tonight, I'm certainly going to tell you a story, but 'tis a story with a difference because, unlike virtually every other tale I tell-in this case, I was there. And yet I know that although I was there, and I saw people who were real, they have since become somewhat imagined-because I now view them through my memory. That's something every human being does-but storytellers live by it.

We Irish prefer embroideries to plain cloth. To us Irish, memory is a canvas--stretched, primed, and ready for painting on. We love the "story" part of the word "history," and we love it trimmed out with color and drama, ribbons and bows. Listen to our tunes, observe a Celtic scroll: we always decorate our essence.

Our bodies are apt to be our autobiographies.

Memory is the mother of the muses, prototype Artist. As a rule picks and highlights what is important, omitting what is accidental or trivial. Occasionally, however, is mistaken as all the other artists. Nevertheless it is what I take as a guide page.

always regretted that good memory often prevents us from thinking for ourselves.

For the first time, vague doubts assaulted me, the shattering suspicion that for all pleasure and joy in life we had to pay ... I repel fear. If I had to pay I would pay, after all, the memory of ecstasy while pungisse its pain could never be erased.

Pain, the idea that something that is gone forever can nonetheless remain so cruelly alive.

Nothing later equalled that first distant glimpse

Our personal past is only available to us now through black-and-white film, it's a medium for communication with the dead, including our dead selves, the way we used to be, which is why we're drawn to it.

Only the past is real.

Happiness is hard to recall. Its just a glow.

We never really had any kind of a Christmas. This is one part where my memory fails me completely.

É irracional desejar a fama póstuma, pois as pessoas que de facto se recordam de nós também morreram e o nosso nome depressa passa a ser conhecido apenas por académicos especialistas e antiquários. Para além disso, de que serve tentar impressionar a posteridade – são pessoas que nunca vamos conhecer. O que valerá a sua opinião?

Oh say can you see Alma. The darling of Them. All her friends were artists. They alone have memories. They alone love flowers. They alone give parties and die. Poor Alma. They alone. She died, and it was as if all the jewels in the world had heaved a sigh. The seismograph at Fordham university registered, for once, a spiritual note. How like a sliver in her own short fat muscular foot. She loved the Western World, though there are some who say she isn't really dead.

We now send our books, our music and even our memories into a cloud. We may or may not believe in God but we do once again believe in meaningful consciousness residing outside of ourselves.

Your explanation brought up a host of dim recollections, which affected me as a song of his childhood affects a man on his deathbed when hear from the lips of another.

It's better to have something to remember than anything to regret.

Yes, but I don't think of the Teen Angel as of an age.