Quotes About Memory

And if I say that when I see myself in the window of the bus I resemble an elephant I don't mean that unlovingly. Just that I look surprisingly human with my long face and my memories.

The past is never over; it is never lost. It circles, as the stones circle, as the stars circle, as the sky circles.

Lost love is still love, isn't it.

So you keep running after the things you want, because you think they will satisfy you - and you truly do think that in the past they gave you satisfaction. But the satisfaction itself, the real feeling of it, somehow slips the net. It's anticipated and remembered but almost never experienced.

It is a cruel, ironical art, photography. The dragging of captured moments into the future; moments that should have been allowed to be evaporate into the past; should exist only in memories, glimpsed through the fog of events that came after. Photographs force us to see people before their future weighed them down....

What we leave behind in this life is the memory of who we were and what we did. An imprint, no more.

For when all else is done, on­ly words re­main. Words en­dure.

If we do not remember those who have gone before us, we are destined to repeat the same mistakes. We walk blind through time.

Words are processed by our short-term memory where we can only retain about seven bits of information . . . Images, on the other hand, go directly into long-term memory where they are indelibly etched.

But just because stories are unwritten for a time, it doesn't mean they'll be unwritten forever. And just because stories don't get written down, it doesn't mean they're ever lost. We carry them in our minds, our hearts, our very bones. We honour them by passing them on, letting them live on in others, too. — foreword by Alicia Elliott

It is my conviction that when events are forgotten, buried in the cellar of the page, they are no longer even history.

The past is never where you think you left it: you are not the same person you were yesterday

Ah! poate c? raiul însuÅŸi nu este decât asta. Faptul c? Wilibald Graf poate s? nu-ÅŸi aminteasc? deloc a fi fost Wilibald Graf, nenorocit pelerin pierdut pe aceast? lume crâncen?. Poate c? aceasta este semnificaÅ£ia binecuvântatelor cuvinte: "iertarea p?catelor!?

We survive until, by sheer stamina, we escape into the dim innocence of our own adulthood and its forgetfulness.

Pictures and words don't hurt anyone, except for those who are afraid of history.

Every memory we have changes slightly each time we think about it. We add stuff we learn in other places, or we forget stuff that doesn't seem important anymore. Or you think you remember something, like from your childhood, but actually you've just seen so many pictures of it, and your parents have told you about it, so you think you remember it, but you don't. A memory is a process. Instead of a thing. Like a story we tell ourselves that changes from the standpoint we're looking at it.

It's like magic, the way god wipes the memories of pain from your head.

Memories while true are impermanent, while film, while permanent is untrue.

We have searched the wide world over and not found forgetfulness.

the Rokuj? lady was much more than a passing affair, and something in the way you wrote it made me certain: you must have loved someone else, someone young, not Akio's father. And that person died, didn't he? At the front." "Yes." Mieko said the one word, and nothing more.

The daylight schooled the senses and the night-time developed the wits, stretched the imagination, sharpened fantasy, hammered home the memory and altered the whole scale of values.

But how could you live and have no story to tell?

Like first love, the heart of Russia will not forget you.

Andare a caccia di ricordi non è mai un bell'affare. Qualunque cosa trovi sulla tua strada rimane in ogni caso un nulla di fatto. Quelli belli non li puoi più catturare e quelli brutti non li puoi uccidere. E ogni respiro sembrava fatto d'aria malsana, quella che si ferma in gola e lascia un cattivo sapore in bocca.