Quotes About Recollection

Noches hubo en que me creí tan seguro de poder olvidarla que voluntariamente la recordaba. Lo cierto es que abusé de esos ratos; darles principio resultaba más fácil que darles fin.

Mi memoria, señor, es como vaciadero de basuras.

The years pass and I've told this story so many times I no longer know whether I remember it as it was or whether it's only my words I'm remembering.

My story will be true to reality or, in any case, to my personal memory of reality, which amounts to the same thing.

Que un individuo quiera despertar en otro individuo recuerdos que no pertenecieron más que a un tercero es una paradoja evidente. Ejecutar con despreocupación esa paradoja, es la inocente voluntad de toda biografía.

in one's memory, all days tend to be the same, but that there is not a day... which does not bring surprises

El olvido bien puede ser una forma profunda de la memoria.

Esos recuerdos no eran simples; cada imagen visual estaba ligada a sensaciones musculares, térmicas, etcétera.

More than anything, memory resembles a library in alphabetical disorder, and with no collected works by anyone.

the present engenders the past far more energetically than the other way around.

It is remarkable how completely forgotten episodes, when touched with a word, open to the memory—at first vaguely, like the recollection of a dream, but then with increasing clarity and certitude, until at last all is again present, and one wonders how such scenes could have ever been forgotten.

If a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.

I did know once, only I've sort of forgotten.

I do remember, and then when I try to remember, I forget.

Do they really help? It's just a few pictures in an album in your head, after all. In between those scenes you do remember there are hundreds, thousands, of scenes you've forgotten. So are you remembering the truth?

Well, she certainly had a point there. It wasn't easy remembering you were an august personage.

couple of weeks last year after she

Let's face it, our memories aren't perfect. We don't get anything exactly right.

they lodge themselves in the infinite corners of recall, and then return in their full regalia in ones and twos and threes, each little bunch stepping forward to corrode the heart with venom again and again.

He remembers what I forget and I remember what he forgets. It's too late for either of us to make another old friend.

When he recalls it in later years, he will wonder if he is distorting it, embellishing it, because each time he consciously recalls her, that forms a new memory, a new imprint to be stacked on top of the previous one. He fears that too much handling will make it crumble.

Child, the past is past, and furthermore it's different every time I remember it.

We forget most of our past but embody all of it.

I try to remember everything, every thing, but sometimes I forget something. I don't even know what it is sometimes, but I know it's not coming to me, something about him isn't coming to me and when that happens, when a piece is missing, it makes me crazy. I don't know what to do with that.