Quotes About Recollection

I've been turning over in my mind the question of nostalgia, and whether I suffer from it. I certainly don't get soggy at the memory of some childhood knickknack; nor do I want to deceive myself sentimentally about something that wasn't even true at the time - love of the old school, and so on. But if nostalgia means the powerful recollection of strong emotions - and a regret that such feelings are no longer present in our lives - then I plead guilty.

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.

Was this their exact exchange? Almost certainly not. Still, it is my best memory of their exchange.

This [...] isn`t something I actually saw, but what you end up remembering isn`t always the same as what you witnessed.

Who was it said that memory is what we thought we'd forgotten?

but what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.

I need to return briefly to a few incidents that have grown into anecdotes, to some approximate memories which time has deformed into certainty.

Again, I must stress that this is my reading now of what happened then. Or rather, my memory now of my reading then of what was happening at the time.

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

But if nostalgia means the powerful recollection of strong emotions—and a regret that such feelings are no longer present in our lives—then I plead guilty . . . And if we're talking about strong feelings that will never come again, I suppose it's possible to be nostalgic about remembered pain as well as remembered pleasure. And that opens up the field, doesn't it?

My name is Stuart, and I remember everything.

Constantly he went back over the evidence of his memories.

what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.

If asked in a court of law what happened and what was said, I could only attest to the words "heading," "stagnating" and "peaceable." I'd never thought of myself as peaceable—or its opposite—until then. I would also swear to the truth of the biscuit tin; it was burgundy red, with the Queen's smiling profile on it.

My brother distrusts the essential truth of memories; I distrust the way we colour them in. We each have our own cheap-mail-order paintbox, and our favourite hues. Thus, I remembered Grandma a few pages ago as petite and unopinionated. My brother, when consulted, takes out his paintbrush and counterproposes short and bossy.

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.

Tai, kÄ… galiausiai prisimeni, ne visada yra tas pats, kÄ… patyrei

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

This last isn't something I actually saw, but what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.

an?msanan hazlar kadar, an?msanan ac?lar konusunda da nostaljik olmak mümkün

This last isn't something I actually saw, but what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.

Memory sorts and sifts according to the demands made on it by the rememberer.

You don't remember what you said to me when I was inside you? She frowned with concentration while she thought about it. Hurry up?