Quotes About Memory

reminiscence is less an endowment than a disease...

It was a night when sorrow may come to the brightest without causing any great sense of incongruity: when, with impressible persons, love becomes solicitousness, hope sinks to misgiving, and faith to hope: when the exercise of memory does not stir feelings of regret at opportunities for ambition that have been passed by, and anticipation does not prompt to enterprise.   The

To find themselves utterly alone at night where company is desirable and expected makes some people fearful; but a case more trying by far to the nerves is to discover some mysterious companionship when intuition, sensation, memory, analogy, testimony, probability, induction—every kind of evidence in the logician's list—have united to persuade consciousness that it is quite in isolation. Farmer

I see your face in every scene of my dreams, and I hear your voice in every sound. I wish I did not. It is too much what I feel. They say such love never lasts

How Great My Grief How great my grief, my joys how few, Since first it was my fate to know thee! —Have the slow years not brought to view How great my grief, my joys how few, Nor memory shaped old times anew, Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee How great my grief, my joys how few, Since first it was my fate to know thee?

The vivid circumstances of his life at this date led him ever to remember the external scenes inwhich they were set. It was an evening of phenomenal irridations, and the west heaven gleamed like a foundry of all metals common and rare. The clouds were broken into a thousand fragments, and the margin of every fragment shone.

Ahora, mi amor- murmuró-, eres mío y sólo mío porque ella al fin se ha olvidado de ti, a pesar de que murieras por ella. Pero cada vez que yo me levante pensaré en ti y cada vez que me vaya a dormir volveré a pensar en ti.

Esta mujer significa mucho más para mí, incluso muerta, de lo que tú hayas significado, signifiques o puedas significar.

she, like all others, had moments of commonplace, when to be least plainly seen was to be most prettily remembered

I am the family face: Flesh perishes, I live on, Projecting trait and trace, Through time to times anon, And leaping from place to place Over oblivion

Back at his chair he cannot remember what he was reading. He feels the books beside him to find the one that is warm.

the washing machine's rhythm was like a giant heartbeat, and the rush of its waters was what the unborn hear- our last memory of peace.

Spaces devoted to Hannibal Lecter's earliest years differ from the other archives in being incomplete. Some are static scenes, fragmentary, like painted attic shards held together by blank plaster. Other rooms hold sound and motion, great snakes wrestling and heaving in the dark and lit in flashes. Pleas and screaming fill some places on the grounds where Hannibal himself cannot go. But the corridors do not echo screaming, and there is music if you like.

He held it at arm's length, through the bars, his forefinger along the spine. She reached across the barrier and took it. For an instant the tip of her forefinger touched Dr. Lecter's. The touch crackled in his eyes. Thank you, Clarice. Thank you, Dr. Lecter. And that is how he remained in Starling's mind. Caught in the instant when he did not mock. Standing in his white cell, arched like a dancer, his hands clasped in front of him and his head slightly to the side.

They tried sodium amytal on him three years ago trying to find out where he buried a Princeton student," Graham said. "He gave them a recipe for dip.

Graham had stared through the bars for about five seconds when Lecter opened his eyes and said, "That's the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court." "I keep getting it for Christmas.

He came back to the car, long legs lifting high in the snow, and there was snow in his hair and on his eyelashes and I remembered that I love him. It felt like something breaking with a little pain and spilling warm.

it would hold among its molecules the vibrations of all the conversations ever held in its presence. All the exchanges, the petty irritations, the deadly revelations, the flat announcements of disaster, the grunts and poetry of love. Sit

She found Starling in the warm laundry room, dozing against the slow rump-rump of a washing machine in the smell of bleach and soap and fabric softener. Starling had the psychology background--Mapp's was law--yet it was Mapp who knew that the washing machine's rhythm was like a great heartbeat and the rush of its waters was what the unborn hear--our last memory of peace.

sight of Clarice Starling running through the falling leaves on the forest path was well established now in the memory palace of his mind. It is a source of pleasure

it was Mapp who knew that the washing machine's rhythm was like a great heartbeat and the rush of its waters was what the unborn hear—our last memory of peace.

Graham loved the way she turned her head, artlessly giving him her less perfect profile. He could see the pulse in her throat, and remembered suddenly and completely the taste of salt on her skin.

Aunque pudiera verte cada día, siempre recordaría este momento.

No olvidamos las penurias de Egipto, no olvidamos a Haman, no olvidamos a Hitler. Así como no olvidamos a los injustos, no olvidamos a los justos. Recordemos pues a Oskar Schindler.