Quotes About Reminiscence

I remember that Scott Jacoby was a nice young man.

I don't remember my childhood very well for one reason or another, possibly childhood trauma or possibly just a very bad memory. My early life has sort of been erased from my memory banks.

I suppose I would like to find out more about my grandparents because I knew them when I was too young to grasp that they were interesting people. They were my grandparents, source of treats.

Century-old records are the closest thing we have to a time machine. To listen to the voice of Theodore Roosevelt or the piano playing of Claude Debussy is to feel the years falling away like autumn leaves from a maple tree.

I saved everything, all my gear over the years: my trench coats and stuff that I have saved. It is all packed away nicely and neatly in vacuum-sealed bags and all that stuff.

Memories are like moonbeams; we do with them what we want.

It's amazing how the things you remember forever are the things you'd rather forget and the things you desperately want to grasp onto seem to slip away like sand in the wind.

It's so easy to get caught up in this weird life. This isn't normal and I'm not singing for people that live my life. I'm singing to the life I used to have. The life I want to have again.

These people you used to see every day, friends or acquaintances, after a while they become as distant as any stranger, people you suddenly recall late at night--you remember something they said or something silly that someone once did. For a few moments they completely occupy your mind; then you forget them again.

The difference between the early twentieth century and the early twenty-first century can be illustrated by Elizabeth Nye's reminiscence: "On Sunday the 14th it became very cold. We couldn't stay out on deck so we all came together in the dining room for a hymn sing." It's hard to imagine passengers on a twenty-first-century cruise liner opting for such an alternative.

Braven Tooth, you remember the last time I played-' 'That was the last time?' 'It was, and there's been a lot who've fallen since then. Friends. People we grew to love, and now miss, like holes in the heart.' He drew a deep breath, then continued, 'It's been waiting, inside, for a long time. So, my old, old friends, let's hear some names.

The first years of my life were spent in a roller disco in the early '80s called Flipper's. It was a real riotous, incredible time. I am slightly obsessed with the place.

I thought the Little League fields were big. You look back now, and its obviously the smallest field you can play on.

Sometimes smell can take you back to places.

The smell of cigars reminds me of someone I used to know, and it just always brings me back. I love it; I find something very comforting about it.

My father smoked cigars his whole life, and my husband once in a while does. And when he does, it reminds me of my father. It's a heartwarming thing.

People will say, 'What's your favorite part of Cincinnati?' I'm like, 'I was nine, man. I liked recess and having snacks. I didn't go anywhere. I was a kid.'

I remember sneaking a look at films like 'D.C. Cab' and 'Doctor Detroit' when my parents weren't watching. 'One Crazy Summer' with John Cusack was one of my favorites.

Which doesn't mean, of course, that I'd stopped loving her, that I'd forgotten her, or that her image had paled; on the contrary; in the form of a quiet nostalgia she remained constantly within me; I longed for her as one longs for something definitively lost.

You think that just because it's already happened, the past is finished and unchangeable? Oh no, the past is cloaked in multicolored taffeta and every time we look at it we see a different hue.

I understood that there was no escaping the memories, that I was surround by them. (p.30)

Such are the Splendors and Miseries of memory: it is proud of its ability to keep truthful track of the logical sequence of past events; but when it comes to how we experienced them at the time, memory feels no obligation to truth.

Indeed, all he remembers are situations that make him displeased with himself.

la memoria no filma, la memoria fotografía.