Quotes About Memory

To lose someone close to you is to enter an experience no amount of forethought or hindsight can free you from. You must live through grief. You cannot outsmart it, nor think through the fact of someone's being gone, and forever. You must survive the sorrow.

sought out his company because he was one of the most erudite Indian writers I had met. He also had a phenomenal memory.

Time, the thing we can't beat back... Yet, time is also what it takes to heal, what it takes for certain memory cells to die. Maybe time doesn't heal. Maybe it doesn't even pass. We pass through time, and come out stunned, so rage, and memory, are blurred.

Never forget what is in your mind

Love and memory and thought and dream ~ My favorite poems have never been written in words.

She would never have a day that she did not see something and hear a voice in her mind say, "Remember this and then write this." Chapter 6 p. 96

The sentence, "She was hollow, as though something had chewed a hole in her body and the hole had grown infected," unless it's been used before by someone else in a story she cannot recall.

Sometimes it's enough just to say their names like a rosary, ordinary names linked by nothing but the fact that they belong to men who loved you.

The last thing she remembered before finally drifting off was how nice Steffi's hair smelled.

I carry it all with me, in the quiet pools and strong currents of my being. I fill my hands with the black dirt left by the river's birth. I believe that what I hold in my hands is memory: like the river, it takes what it touches, carrying it along until all that remains is the bed over which the water flows.

Maybe that's the way to go, Manny thought. Your body snatched up and spirited away. Your last memory a dream of flight.

when my family headed out west, like any birth canal Rochester was forgotten.

Now that I no longer live in New York, I don't know if I could ever move back. All that young-girl idealism is someone else's now. That city I know doesn't exist anymore, and it's more alive in my head than it is when I'm there.

The image of the two of them—smiling and at ease with each other—would be burned in Sid's memory forever. What all had gone on between them while he'd collected Asa's lumber? Sadie obviously had time for the sheriff, but not for him. Couldn't she see she was breaking his heart? But he had a plan to capture her attention tonight. By the end of the day, she'd be looking at him with that moony expression she'd aimed at the sheriff.

Animal models have shown that prolonged stress suppresses neurogenesis in the hippocampus, the organ that plays such an important role in memory and where we want to be upregulating the production of new connections.

I stored this information in my head in the bulging file titled "Things I Wished I Didn't Know." It included what it felt like to walk on a clubfoot for ten years, and what it sounded like to have your mother say she never wanted to see you again.

But I'm used to him not being around, especially when I'm at school. I mostly didn't live with him. So I don't actually miss him even though I'm sorry that he's dead. Sometimes I realize that for a few hours I've forgotten all about him. I think I miss the idea of him more than miss his real self. Does that make me a bad person? I'm afraid it does.

They had no churches, but used the mountainous areas of this locality, meeting in mountain valleys, lonely places etc, meeting together at night rather than in the day. They had no pastors, but many believers organized themselves and produced their own leaders. They had no Bibles, but they recited them from memory, using hand-written copies and mimeographed sheets to meet their needs. Although some secret meetings were discovered, local Christian activities continued uninterrupted.

Pausing in front of her, her mother brushed the hair back from her face and smiled sweetly at her before she kissed her brow. "You've changed much, my little treasure." A stinging wave of grief consumed her as she heard her mother's blessed voice again. Tears welled in her eyes. "I've missed you, Mama." -Seren and her mother, in a dream.

The present changes the past. Looking back you do not find what you left behind.

Sometimes I think we have no present, only the past.

We rework our own memories and reinvent ourselves to suit our tastes and predilections every day.

Escape the safety of the small by taking the risks to become part of something bigger. Your true self demands it. Listen for the timer on the oven to sound—that's when the memory curtain parts, flashing moments that really mattered.

Now is history as fast as the mind remembers.