Quotes About Forgetfulness

How these curiosities would be quite forgot, did not such idle fellowes as I put them down.

At 60, I could do the same things I could do at 30, if I could only remember what those things are.

The moment the world falls apart, you start forgetting history and wrongdoings in the past.

Victor Hugo could not promise without keeping his word. He was not like me: I promise everything with the firm intention of keeping my promises, and two hours after I have forgotten all about them. If any one reminds me of what I have promised, I tear my hair, and to make up for my forgetfulness I say anything, I buy presents -- in fact, I complicate my life with useless worries. It has always been thus, and always will be so.

"Don't worry about senility," my grandfather used to say. "When it hits you, you won't know it."

One of the great privileges of living in the affluent parts of the modern world is that we've been able to forget that the natural world even exists...a great city seems to produce wealth out of thin air. This is illusion, of course, but powerful illusion.

I find any kind of 'organizing' very difficult. And that has irksome consequences when it comes to books, since I've often wound up buying books twice because I couldn't find what I already have in all my mess.

I have some issues that I don't know if they will become issues. I have some things in my head, I forget things. I can't turn my head a lot or my brain crashes. I have back and wrist pain.

With contemporary writers, I often buy books and then realise I've bought them before.

You know our Alice. She plays hide-and-seek but sometimes forgets to ask someone to look for her.

Tout s'en va, tout passe, l'eau coule, et le cÅ"ur oublie. » "Everything goes, everything passes, the water flows, and the heart forgets.

WiÅ›nie byÅ'y wyborne, a Gerda gÅ'odna, wiÄ™c jadÅ'a, uÅ›miechajÄ…c siÄ™ z zadowoleniem, gdy staruszka zÅ'otym grzebieniem czesaÅ'a jej zÅ'ote wÅ'osy. CzesaÅ'a je dÅ'ugo, w dziwnym blasku czerwonych i niebieskich szybek, a Gerda zapomniaÅ'a o Kaju, babce i rodzicach, bo grzebieÅ" byÅ' zaczarowany, staruszka zaÅ› byÅ'a wró?kÄ….

I wish I had a nickel for every song that I've left in the bathroom, written down on a matchbox, or just totally forgotten about.

Kids are really tougher than adults, but we tend to forget this in an affluent society that lets kids indulge themselves.

I'd been round the world a hundred times and had started to forget where I'd been. I knew I'd been there: it said it on the tour map. I could remember the name of the city but I couldn't remember what it was like - it was a massive blur.

As one gets older, it happens that in the morning one fails to remember the airplane trip to be taken in a few hours or the lecture scheduled for the afternoon.

What is last year's snow to me, Last year's anything? The tree Budding yearly must forget How its past arose or set

We've outsourced our memories to digital devices, and the result is that we no longer trust our memories. We see every small forgotten thing as evidence that they're failing us.

He told us that nations of men fell into disorder, so nations of law were set up instead. He told us that nations of law then forgot justice and let the law become a Game, a Game in which the moves and the winning were more important than truth. He told us to seek justice rather than the Game.

This is..." "You completely forgot what day it is, didn't you?" "Eh?" "It's your birthday!!" "Huh... It is? Oh!" "Idiot!

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

Perhaps this sort of thing drove Oscar Wilde to reflect, 'Death must be so beautiful; to have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace.' There was a great deal to become yet for all that had been my undoing. ––

One keeps forgetting old age up to the very brink of the grave.

For it is humanly certain that most of us remember very little of what we have read. To open almost any book a second time is to be reminded that we had forgotten well-nigh everything that the writer told us. Parting from the narrator and his narrative, we retain only a fading impression; and he, as it were, takes the book away from us and tucks it under his arm.