Quotes About Recollection

shirtsleeves rolled up to expose tanned, muscled forearms. He looked sensational, even better than she remembered. No man should have so much; it wasn't

The truth is that you do forget people. When you conjure them up, long after they have gone, you can't recall the essence of them, just the outline.

Unfortunately, I've been bad at preserving things I'd written as a kid.

I can't remember anything I ever wrote.

I remember little of the Yukon or what I wrote there.

I remember I took a music course in junior year of high school, and some girl brought in 'Teardrops On My Guitar,' and she was like, 'Isn't this song great?' And everyone was like, 'Who's Taylor Swift?' And now, every time I listen to Taylor Swift, I remember that moment.

If you want to test your memory, try to recall what you were worrying about one year ago today.

I know people who have a much better recollection of their childhood than I do. They remember very well when they were a year and a half and two years old. I've only one or two daguerreotypes that come to mind.

I do dream. I mean, I must every night, right? But I only remember a couple a year.

In the sense that writing is to retrieve the past and stop the passing of time, all writing is about loss. It's not nostalgia in the sense of yearning to bring back the past, but recognition of the erosion of things as you live.

It's odd the things that people remember. Parents will arrange a birthday party, certain it will stick in your mind forever. You'll have a nice time, then two years later you'll be like, 'There was a pony there? Really? And a clown with one leg?'

I was for two years a pupil at the Model School in Fort street which was then conducted upon the Irish national system, and if any special religious instruction was given in connection with that system, I do not recollect it.

I was talking on the phone in my trailer, and I looked in the mirror and I saw the badge clipped to my belt, a gun with a holster, and the suit and the tie with the jacket off, and it was just deja vu. I remember that image so clearly from growing up. My dad would come home for lunch, take off his jacket, have the gun and the badge.

No memory is ever alone; it's at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each have their own associations.

Sometimes I get off stage, and I almost have no recollection of what happened. It's almost like a trance; it's very bizarre.

We transform the world, but we don't remember it. We adjust our baseline to the new level, and we don't recall what was there.

I remember somebody came in with Chicago Transit Authority, and we listened to it one time.

When I write about things, it's a lot to do with sense memory. How things smell and taste can bring incredible memories flooding back and transport you in an instant to another time and place.

The faculty of memory cannot be separated from the imagination. They go hand in hand. To one degree or another, we all invent our personal pasts. And for most of us those pasts are built from emotionally colored memories.

How could you forget something you never learned or had?!

How often since that time has the recollection of his paternal counsels occured to me, while lying in a slave hut in the distant and sickly regions of Louisiana, smarting with the undeserved wounds which an inhuman master had inflicted, and longing only for the grave which had covered him, to shield me also from the lash of the oppressor.

If you ask for a memory and they tell you a story, they're lying

memories of the past are not the past. They're thoughts you have in the present, about the past.

Ich erinnere mich an dich. Wie loderndes Feuer hast du in dieser Hoele ausgesehen, als waerst du ein Wesen aus leuchtenden, tanzenden Farben