Quotes About Recollection

Let's agree right here at the outset that memory is made up of one part perception, one part intuition, and one part pure invention.

Marcellus cudgeled his memory. What did he know about Arpino? Delicious little melons! Arpino melons! And exactly the right time for them, too.

If you were to be lost in the river, Jonas, your memories would not be lost with you. Memories are forever.

Memory is the happiness of being alone.

They say that Hope is happiness But genuine Love must prize the past; And Mem'ry wakes the thoughts that bless: They rose first -- they set the last. And all that mem'ry loves the most Was once our only hope to be: And all that hope adored and lost Hath melted into memory. Alas! It is delusion all-- The future cheats us from afar: Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are.

what we remember depends upon what we believe—the human mind is not an objective recorder of information . . ." ~ MJ Brogan, Sins Not Forgotten

Do you remember little Zoe Octavia Lexham?' he said. His aunt cast her pale blue gaze in the direction of the great chandelier, as though that was where she kept her memory. 'Zoe Octavia,' she said.

no memory, no desire.

Nothing wrong with holding on to good memories, he said quietly. I've held on to mine.

None of my issues have included memory loss or unconscious actions, she said. Thomas squinted back at her. If they had, how would you know it? Molly frowned. Valid point.

Whatever the reason, I'm happy to remember the time we had.

Esmerelda's blue and green eyes could have made Stevie remember being hired by Mister Snuffleupagus, if that was what she wanted.

O que lembro, tenho.

She could remember it all but none of it seemed to come to anything. She had a sense the dream had ended and she had slept on.

Her choices, all. Sentimental choices, things she remembered. I remembered them too.

We all remember what we need to remember.

It is a good idea, then, to keep in touch, and I suppose that keeping in touch is what notebooks are all about.

Memory fades, memory adjusts , memory conforms to what we think we remember.

They mentioned everything but one thing: that she had left the point in a bedroom in Encino.

Had he not warned me when I forgot my own notebook that the ability to make a note when something came to mind was the difference between being able to write and not being able to write?

I can no longer tell you whether Milton put the sun or the earth at the center of his universe in Paradise Lost, the central question of at least one century and a topic about which I wrote ten thousand words that summer, but I can still recall the exact rancidity of the butter in the City of San Francisco's dining car, and the way the tinted windows on the Greyhound bus cast the oil refineries around Carquinez Strait into a grayed and obscurely sinister light.

She didn't know the songs, I recall being told that a friend of a friend had said after an attempt to repeat the experience.

It is hard to remember what we came to remember.

Happiness is what you choose to remember.