Quotes About Recollection

I have to start writing down things that happen, or I'll forget my life entirely.

Memory is identity....You are what you have done; what you have done is in your memory; what you remember defines who you are; when you forget your life you cease to be, even before your death.

The way that you remember your life, it's never linear. You have flashes of different moments of your life, and the flashes aren't equal; they have different styles.

It is to live twice when we can enjoy the recollections of our former life.

still greater problem resides in the fact that memory in relation to abduction experiences behaves rather strangely. As in the cases, for example, of Ed (chapter 3) or Arthur (chapter 15) the memory of an abduction may be outside of consciousness until triggered many years later by another experience or situation that becomes associated with the original event.

we live in the same city but don't see the same things - you see buildings and I see memories...

I remember your profile in darkness outlined by stars ...

A madeleine moment - a sound, a scent can incant her presence...

His memory, like the world's, was getting spotty.

Your memory is a monster; you forget—it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!

Your memory is a monster; you forget—it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!

Touch has a memory.

As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape.

Sometimes I got worried that my memory was falling apart.

And yet, the second time had blocked out the first time, and I didn't like to think that it hadn't been the first time.

What am I going to do now? Then I realized this was the perfect time to start journaling again. Because if you don't write down what happens in a day, you forget—and that day becomes a blur and that blur becomes your life.

There was a memory for everything, India realized; it was pointless to try to escape the memories.

He couldn't remember his former babysitter's name. It was in the Elisa/Alyssa/Alicia vein, but he wasn't sure exactly which.

We are driving along a road I have driven my whole life. I still watch for the bends in the creek, checking to see how high the water comes up on the bank, I still hold my breath as we go around the blind turn, I can close my eyes and tell you where we are just by the way my stomach feels. I wonder if after I grow up and move away, if I came back would my body still remember this road, or would I have forgotten it?

Memory is a spiderweb. It hangs in a corner and collects dust. Until you need it to catch a fly.

Few are the memories which are more than a handful of dust, to be let run through the fingers.

I don't have any control over what memories I get, when I get them. Except every single one of them is something I would have rather forgotten. -- "Erase, Erase, Erase

Memory is a spiderweb. It hangs in a corner and collects dust. Unless you need it to catch a fly.

How subjective the world must have been, then, when no one could remember the same events, and nobody would remember them for long.