Quotes About Recollection

Andy Pettitte is my friend...I think he misremembers.

But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be recreated - not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

99 percent of every beautiful thing you ever knew escaped and went back out into the world where you vaguely remembered it.

The memory of odors is very rich. Now

In Libya, you are made aware the whole time of the abandonment of things, the material leftovers of receding cultures

Her reaction signaled that his memory had the power to destroy.

It all came back. Every bone in my body turned hot. Then I couldn't make it stop. All those memories. Whatever kept them stored away broke. There was a rush of sensation through me, then nothing. And for days afterward, I'd get overwhelmed with a sound or the way my shirt rubbed against my arm or a smell. Like my body remembered and reminded the rest of me.

Nothing brings memories to the surface like smells and flames.

I've got quite a memory. Engraved in my mind, things are. I can't forget anything...It's not a sign of intelligence...Nothing to boast about, memory...that's just how it is...

she'd remembered that her uncle liked smoked pork

Mas a saudade é isto mesmo; é o passar e repassar das memórias antigas.

Você ainda se lembra da roça, Tomás? – Alembra, sim, senhor.

A recordação de uns simples olhos basta para fixar outros que os recordem e se deleitem com a imaginação deles.

saudade é isto mesmo; é o passar e repassar das memórias antigas

He had even forgotten

she didn't remember much else.

Sometimes one has to know something many times over. Sometimes one forgets, and then remembers. And then forgets, and then remembers. And then forgets again.

Praise is the symbol which represents sympathy, and which the mind insensibly substitutes for its recollection and language.

To Remember Is Painful, To Forget Is Impossible.

The memories were so vivid that the book dropped from my hand and my eyes filled with tears.

How do you lose a word? Does it vanish into your memory, like an old toy in a chest, and lie hidden in the cobwebs and dust, waiting to be cleaned out or rediscovered?

Memory deludes me. I have just remembered something that I completely forgot after it happened. I remembered it again when I was about sixteen, and then I forgot it again. And this morning I remembered not the event itself but the previous recollection, which itself was more than forty years ago, as though an old moon were reflected in a windowpane from which it was reflected in a lake, from where memory draws not the reflection itself, which no longer exists, but only its whitened bones.

The grown-ups who still remembered usually chose to stay silent. To deny. To pretend they'd forgotten

I have remembered, I suppose, what I wanted to remember; many ridiculous things for no reason that makes sense. That is the way we human creatures are made.