Quotes About Memory

situation that is even vaguely reminiscent of those that created an emotional habit can act as a trigger.

While no one can change the outcome of dementia or Alzheimer's, with the right support you can change the journey.

Prva ljubav možda i nije najbolja, ali je obi?no najdublja." "I najdublja i najbolja. Mora biti najbolja.

Oh my son," sighed Ama. "I was talking to the shadows of the pomegranate trees. At least they will be here when we are all gone.

Now hardly anything seemed to matter except politics—the latest series of atrocities, which family had converted, who had offered money to bribe the Church, and, of course, the fateful night which was burned in their collective memory and which caused even those who had previously expressed a total indifference to politics to sit up and take stock.

Time — how it expands to fill the spaces you create; how it makes meagre experiences seem never-ending. Whenever he heard people talk about the ravages of time, about how it robbed and deprived, Justin always smiled; because for him, time was an accomplice, plugging the gaps and fleshing out morsels of memory so he would have something substantial to hang on to. That way, however little he had seen or felt, he would always feel as if he had more: a life far richer than the truth.

start her gradual return to society. Black gowns gave way to grey, mauve, and lavender, and could now be made from silk instead of crape or bombazine. To alert the members of her circle that she was ready to face society, a widow would leave calling cards at the houses of her acquaintances. She would begin to accept more invitations, always being careful only to attend events that were not too joyful and to behave in ways respectful of the memory of her husband

curse Lady Emily Hargreaves and her life and mind and memory and liver and lungs mixed up together, and her words, thoughts and memory; thus may she be unable to speak what things are concealed, nor be able to communicate anything she finds. I bind her tongue,

Para que no se me olviden las lesbianas. / So that I don't forget the lesbians.

Zakhor. Al Tichkah. Remember. Never forget.

Michel. In my dreams, you come and get me. You take me by the hand and you lead me away. This life is too much for me to bear. I look at the key and I long for you and for the past. For the innocent, easy days before the war. I know now my scars will never heal. I hope my son will forgive me. He will never know. No one will ever know.

And so I write this for you, My Sarah. With the hope that one day, when you're old enough, this story that lives with me, will live with you as well. When a story is told, it is not forgotten. It becomes something else, a memory of who we were; the hope of what we can become.

Sometimes, Miss Jarmond, it's not easy to bring back the past. There are unpleasant surprises. The truth is harder than ignorance

You know what I find most shocking about the Vel'd'Hiv?" Guillaume said. "Its code name." I knew the answer to that, thanks to my extensive reading. Operation Spring Breeze, " I murmured.

Zakhor, Al Tichkah.' Souviens-toi. N'oublie jamais.

My grandmother was fifteen the day of the roundup. She was told she was free because they were only taking small children between two and twelve with their parents. She was left behind. And they took all the others. Her little brothers, her little sister, her mother, her father, her aunt, her uncle. Her grandparents. It was the last time she ever saw them. No one came back No one at all.

the Rey family grave at the

You were a quiet man, yet you took up a vast amount of silent space and that was what I missed.

On July 16 and 17, 1942, 13,152 Jews were arrested in Paris and the suburbs, deported and assassinated at Auschwitz. In the Vélodrome d'Hiver that once stood on this spot, 1,129 men, 2,916 women, and 4,115 children were packed here in inhuman conditions by the government of the Vichy police, by order of the Nazi occupant. May those who tried to save them be thanked. Passerby, never forget!

Remember. Never forget.

And so I write this for you, My Sarah. With the hope that one day, when you're old enough, this story that lives with me, will live with you as well. When a story is told, it is not forgotten. It becomes something else, a memory of who we were; the hope of what we can become." ? Tatiana de Rosnay, Sarah's Key

I couldn't understand death. I didn't know what it was. The only way I was able to measure it was by the fact I couldn't hear my grandfather's laugh anymore.

The old African proverb says, 'The ax forgets; the tree remembers.' I saw how horrifically it injured us to identify with our oppressors. If we were to keep our souls whole, we couldn't afford to forget. We had to remember.

I've decided that the worst part of loneliness isn't being alone. It's being forgotten.