Quotes About Memory

Simply touching a difficult memory with some slight willingness to heal begins to soften the holding and tension around it. (74)

We tend to remember the seasons of our lives by the soundtrack of that season

Spirituality, in short, is religion stripped down to its experiential dimension. More than do-it-yourself religion, spirituality is do-without-religion, a form of faith that denies its connections to the institutions, stories, and doctrines that gave it birth - religion without memory.

I will weep no more for the lost, asleep in their water graves.

I will write: for myself, for those who come after, and for the voices that cry out not to be forgotten.

whatever is done cannot be undone, but whatever is lost can sometimes be found.

In truth I had forgotten all about Arthur and our reason for coming to Benowyc in the first place.

But, strange to tell, though I could remember those first glowing days of my arrival, I could not without intense effort recall much of my life before that—save in the most indefinite terms. Indeed, when compared to the intensely vivid life I knew in Albion, my life before coming to the Otherworld seemed almost unutterably remote and insignificant, little more than a vague pantomime acted out in a dim, colorless, half-light.

I write out those things no child should ever have been made to know

When you are loved you never die.

When I reached the age of five, I was told I was adopted as a baby, at that time I was gun and holster mad, a bit of a lone ranger, as was the rage in those days. My parents, Tom and Brenda, told me they went to see all these special kids and they picked me out from them. Waiting for my reaction, I looked up at my parents and chimed, 'Did I have my guns on?

I had forgotten the fact that I had been raped, something no one would understand, how could anyone forget something as traumatic as being raped?

How many times do you get to be 35? Eleven

I remember days Or at least I try But as years go by They're sort of haze And the bluest ink Isn't really sky And at times I think I would gladly die For a day of sky

I think continually of those who were truly great…The names of those who in their lives fought for life,Who wore at their hearts the fire's center.Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,And left the vivid air signed with their honor.

I shall not rest quiet in Montparnasse. I shall not lie easy at Winchelsea. You may bury my body in Sussex grass, You may bury my tongue at Champmedy. I shall not be there. I shall rise and pass. Bury my heart at Wounded Knee

Books are not men and yet they are alive, they are man's memory and his aspiration, the link between his present and his past, the tools he builds with.

Yes, Dan'l Webster is dead — or, at least, they buried him.

For the man crucified on the crossed machine guns Without name, without resurrection, without stars, His dark head heavy with death and his flesh long sour With the smell of his many prisons -- John Smith, John Doe, John Nobody -- oh, crack your mind for his name!

Powerful men in particular suffer from the delusion that human beings have no memories. I would go so far as to say that the distinguishing trait of powerful men is the psychotic certainty that people forget acts of infamy as easily as their parents birth

Transference: treating, responding to, and/or having feelings about someone in the present as though they were someone important from the past.

She felt an unexpected pang of homesickness (or was it some physical complaint?) and suddenly remembered that it was her mother's birthday today or tomorrow or sometime last week.

Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.

Romeo wouldn't change his mind. That's why people still remembered his name, always twined with hers