Quotes About Oblivion

Not the power to remember, but its very opposite, the power to forget, is a necessary condition for our existence.

If I dreamed, no traces remained in my memory; I simply left the world and life for complete exhausted oblivion.

If man chooses oblivion, he can go right on leaving his fate to his political leaders. If he chooses Utopia, he must initiate an enormous education program - immediately, if not sooner.

History will be erased in the universal purgatory.

No other job in the world could possibly dispossess one so completely as this job of teaching. You could stand all day in a laundry, for instance, still in possession of your mind. But this teaching utterly obliterates you. It cuts right into your being: essentially, it takes over your spirit. It drags it out from where it would hide.

There are no good or evil people. There is only a great, unfathomable mob trampling itself underfoot. The life-giving sources of the old morality have dried up and vanished in the sands of oblivion. There's no other source to draw from, no place to refresh oneself. There is no example, no inspiration. It is night. A night of indifference, apathy, chaos.

To miasto jest stolic? narodu, które wyparowuje w nico??. O tym te? trzeba powiedzie?. Ale komu? Czy tym, których ju? nie ma albo którzy odchodz? w niepami??? A mo?e tym, co po?eraj? pojedynczych ludzi i ca?e narody?

I did what I could to inflate the rumor I was on my way to stardom. What I was on my way to, by any mathematical standards known to man, was oblivion, by way of obscurity.

Man is a messenger who forgot the message.

Las Vegas was a city with no memory.

Remembering was pointless; but forgetting somehow seemed immoral.

Of course they won't bloody remember, they'll be dead.' Then she called him a name in a dead language that translated, roughly, to 'poop on a stick,' but sounded more succinct, like this: 'Of course they won't bloody remember, they'll be dead, Poopstick.

For the tourist, immersed in the oblivion of vacation spending, Cypress Street provided a bonanza of curious gifts to prove to the folks back home that they had been somewhere. Somewhere where they had obviously forgotten that soon they would return home to a mortgage, dental bills, and an American Express bill that would descend at the end of the month like a financial Angel of Death. And they bought. They bought effigies of

You feel you are creeping up over the edge of a precipice and that this cliff beckons you; worse, that you have a secret desire to fall over its edge into oblivion and that there is no way to stop that fall because you are the precipice.

A book is a fragile creature, it suffers the wear of time, it fears rodents, the elements and clumsy hands. so the librarian protects the books not only against mankind but also against nature and devotes his life to this war with the forces of oblivion.

a book is a fragile creature, it suffers the wear of time, it fears rodents, the elements, clumsy hands. If for a hundred and a hundred years everyone had been able freely to handle our codices, the majority of them would no longer exist. So the librarian protects them not only against mankind but also against nature, and devotes his life to this war with the forces of oblivion, the enemy of truth.

So the librarian protects them not only against mankind but also against nature, and devotes his life to this war with the forces of oblivion, the enemy of truth.

It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory.

This is at the beginning of my book: When a man is out of sight, it is not too long before he is out of mind. Victor Hugo

Too much I've seen, and felt, and lov'd in life, Living I come to seek Lethaean calm; Let me, fair scenes! forget all worldly strife, Oblivion solely is my bosom's balm.

Already in the sacred bowl I've quaff'd oblivion, and my rapturous soul Heav'n's harbour gains full sail!

This is the pleasantest part of life. Oblivion throws her light coverlet over our infancy; and, soon after we are out of the cradle we forget how soundly we had been slumbering, and how delightful were our dreams. Toil and pleasure contend for us almost the instant we rise from it: and weariness follows whichever has carried us away. We stop awhile, look around us, wonder to find we have completed the circle of existence, fold our arms, and fall asleep again.

From Colonial times to the present, children have lived with a bewildering variety of caretaking systems. Some, in the bosom of their families, have been looked after by women other than their mothers. Some have been herded into institutions or sent away from home or exposed to substitute mothers in one arrangement or another. America's historical amnesia has let the details of many of these arrangements slip into oblivion, forcing society to make a fresh start again and again.

The vagina is obliterated from the imagery of femininity in the same way that the signs of independence and vigor in the rest of her body are suppressed.