The question of what exactly we remember when we listen to old recordings, or whether it can be called remembering at all, becomes less and less answerable over a lifetime.

Ultimate horror often paralyses memory in a merciful way.

God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.

Memory is a barricade against forgetting; light is a bulwark against darkness; life is a flex against the stillness of the grave. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do here, clear a space in all...

She has a memory of trees and fields and nothing more.

Life is a journey, education is our pleasure and our memory.

Mournful and Never-ending Remembrance.

The city, however, does not tell its past, but contains it like the lines of a hand

…it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of...

The oversupply of some semiconductor products, such as memory chips, has depressed sales revenue, … However, we are still optimistic about the industry’s position, because the demand for newer and more powerful chips continues to...

Rhyme is a mnemonic device, an aid to the memory. And some poems are themselves mnemonics, that is to say, the whole purpose of the poem is to enable us to remember some information.

We carry the dead with us only until we die too, and then it is we who are borne along for a little while, and then our bearers in their turn drop, and so on...

Memories, even your most precious ones, fade surprisingly quickly. But I don’t go along with that. The memories I value most, I don’t ever see them fading.

That brief walk was one of those moments he knew he’d remember and look back on, one of those moments that he’d try to capture in the stories he told. Nothing was happening, really, but...

But I can’t see anything any more: however much I search the past I can only retrieve scraps of images and I am not sure what they represent, nor whether they are remembered or invented.

No one can soothe my inner being like you. No one can make me look to the future with such excitement like you did. No one can understand me, fulfill me, fit me like you...

The memory of things gone is important to a jazz musician.

It seemed like it was always autumn in this field – it was fitting really. Everything was shaded with the bronzes and yellows of faded pictures from an old photo album, it was a realm...

And I’ll dance with you in Vienna,I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise.The hyacinth wild on my shouldermy mouth on the dew of your thighs.And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,with the photographs there and...

It’s a long slow process for a human to die. We kill a cow, and it is dead as soon as the meat is eaten, but a man’s life dies as a commotion in a...

Every life has a soundtrack.There is a tune that makes me think of the summer I spent rubbing baby oil on my stomach in pursuit of the perfect tan. There’s another that reminds me of...

No one tells us, girls who don’t go on dates, that remembering can be almost as good as what actually happens.

Circumstances cannot change how you feel. When you truly love someone – on a level that goes deeper than your mind, deeper than your memories, all the way to the very thing that makes you...

Maybe Cubism started this way. Memory re-arranging a face.

For me in my twenties, working in Hollywood was confusing in that the differences between what was fiction and what was nonfiction seemed to blur in my mind. Everything became a visual memory for me....

How grudging memory is, and how bitterly she clutches the raw material of her daily work.

Back then, things were plainer: less money, no electronic devices, little fashion tyranny, no girlfriends. There was nothing to distract us from our human and filial duty which was to study, pass exams, use those...

Sometimes words just arent enough. Sometimes it’s easier to magically lose yourself in the memories long past, the ones you so selfishly took for granted. And sadly sometimes that’s the only way to keep those...

I told you the truth… Memory’s truth, because memory has its own special kind. It selects, eliminates, alters, exaggerates, minimizes, glorifies, and vilifies also; but in the end it creates its own reality, its heterogeneous...

Hold each moment you create on your sacred journey close to your heart, for that is the location where your memory will be deposited.

You see, that’s who you are, Joe. All these things. That’s the person I know, and through him is the way you’ll know me, because connected to all these things are moments, and for so...

I got an image in my head that never got out. We see a great many things and can remember a great many things, but that is different. We get very few of the true...

I don’t write about what I know: I write in order to find out what I know.

Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.

Forget those things that aren’t worth remembering.

The past, which as always did not know the future, acted in ways that ask tobe imagined before they are condemned. Or even simplified.

Train your brain to gain.

Didn’t young people care what the generation before them had achieved? And if not, why had everyone gone through those grim difficult wartime years?

How small the cosmos (a kangaroo’s pouch would hold it), how paltry and puny in comparison to human consciousness, to a single individual recollection, and its expression in words!

I had this theory. It was based loosely on the unremarkable observation that the old are always looking back with longing while the young, with the same longing, look ahead. One man remembers what the...

Darkness twisted me into something so ugly yet so magical

It didn’t take tragedy or war to derail a man. It took only a memory.

This is the story I am working on. But it isn’t complete as I don’t have the right way to begin. I sit on the crosshouse floor and look at the objects. I see different...

I was going to be a memory when I grew up.

What is a man but another man’s memory

Continents of memory had been lost.

I am stone and steel of your sleeping numbers;I remember all you forget.I will die as many timesas you make me over again.

The fear of not being remembered is a dangerous thing.

The words with which a child’s heart is poisoned, whether through malice or through ignorance, remain branded in his memory, and sooner or later they burn his soul.

What is this ‘I’? If you analyse it closely you will, I think, find that it is just a little bit more than a collection of single data (experiences and memories), namely the canvas upon...