Quotes About Reminiscence

When I come to Manly I just remember my childhood.

Animals are the traditional circus. It's what people remember from their childhood.

My friend Jim Parrack is in 'Child of God,' and we grew up together. Back then, we would watch old movies and go reenact them at a Blockbuster or a supermarket. We'd end up getting in trouble because you can't reenact movies. People think you're crazy.

Ever since I was a child, I've kept boxes and drawers and pages of things that I liked. I suppose that it constitutes a journal of sorts, but it's not in a ledger or a notebook.

'Friends' and 'Cold Feet' seem like a lifetime ago. That whole period is like a weird, bizarre blip or a surreal dream.

My lungs are thick with the smoke of your absence.

The past is unclear. It's as if there is a film over those early years. I can't even be sure that the things I remember happening really happened to me.

Your face, your mouth, your shoulder inconceivable to me now! Where did they go? It's like I dreamed them. The stones we brought home from the beach lie face up on the windowsill, cooling. Come home. Do you hear? My lungs are thick with the smoke of your absence.

When I look back on it, all of our important decisions have been figured out when we were drinking.

And isn't the past inevitable, now that we call the little we remember of it "the past"? – WILLIAM MATTHEWS, from Flood

A occasional whiff of his personality drifted back to me.

After a time, it seemed that the world inside the books became my world. So when I thought of my childhood, it was dandelion wine and ice cream on a summer porch, like Ray Bradbury, and catching catfish with Huck Finn. My own memories receded and the book memories became the real memories, far more than the outside, far more even than in here.

For the memory of their time together was all she would ever have in the empty years to come.

Te escribo porque los años me han fijado los recuerdos como un sarro y el pasado se ha convertido para mí en un viejo tullido.

A coat hanger of a body trying to remember the coat that years before had fallen off

Time changes the places that knew us, and if we go back after years, still even then it is not the same spot; the gate swings differently, new thatch has been put on the old gables, the road has been widened, and the sward the driven sheep lingered on has gone. (Wild Flowers)

Memories of childhood were the dreams that stayed with you after you woke.

He didn't really like travel, of course. He liked the idea of travel, and the memory of travel, but not travel itself.

I think there's a different authenticity to memory, and not an inferior one. Memory sorts and sifts according to the demands made on it by the rememberer.

And this is how I would remember it all, if I could. But I can't.

How do we seize the past? Can we ever do so?

The past is the present's toy and plaything, gratifyingly unable to answer back.

Photographs were useful, but somehow always confirmed the memory rather than liberating it.

When we are young, we invent different futures for ourselves; when we are old, we invent different pasts for others.