This surprised me because it made me realize that what I sought was not outside myself. It was within me, already there, waiting. Awakening was really the act of remembering myself, remembering this deep Feminine...

Memory was a curse, yes, he thought, but it was also the greatest gift. Because if you lost memory you lost everything.

Forgetting isn’t the key to moving on. Remembering is, because only once we’ve remembered can we forget.

One couldn’t be selective when remembering the past. Ignore the turmoil, chaos and pain – and the truly great memories would not shine with such luster.

When you wake up from a dream you have only a few precious moments before the details of the dream begin to dissipate and the memory fades.Not all dreams are significant or worth remembering.But the...

We seem to live in a world where forgetting and oblivion are an industry in themselves and very, very few people are remotely interested or aware of their own recent history, much less their neighbors’....

I wondered if there would ever be a day when I didn’t think about Alaska, wondered whether I should hope for a time when she would be a distant memory – recalled only on the...

Stories about lives remembered bring us backward while allowing us to move forward.

The time is ripe for looking back over the day, the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going to, for sifting through the things...

. . . Thisis not the same river at my fingertips. There are no paths, no sunken roadsfamiliar in the forest, by which we canretrace our steps, by which we can escapeby which we can...

Then one morning she’d begun to feel her sorrow easing, like something jagged that had cut into her so long it had finally dulled its edges, worn itself down. That same day Rachel couldn’t remember...

Remember this Anya. Dreams have power; they show old truths you are too blind to see on waking. They make you remember memories that are lost in the blood flowing through your veins. Remember her...

Do you remember what we just did? Please tell me you remember what we just did.”She briefly toyed with the idea of lying and saying no, just to see the look on his face, but...

There are edges around the black and every now and then a flash of color streaks out of the gray. But I can never really grasp any of the slivers of memories that emerge.

Put that thing down, girl. Don’t you know it steals part of your soul, that little mechanical masterpiece you hold so frivolously? Don’t you know it’s not just mine it seals into its gears and...

Marina me dijo una vez que sólo recordamos lo que nunca sucedió.

Nobody had forgotten anything here. In Berlin, you had to wrestle with the past, you had to build on the ruins, inside them. It wasn’t like America where we scraped the earth clean, thinking we...

Did you ever look back at some moment in your past and have it suddenly grow so vivid that all the intervening years seemed brief, dreamlike, impersonal—the motions of a May afternoon surrendered to routine?

But it was smell that carried memory.

I loved her like elephants like remembering stuff. Those bastards just won’t let me forget and move on.

To forget would mean the things we never knewhad never waited to be known, never waitedto be forgotten, had never been; waitingbeneath the long dead starsin time. . .

One day this war will end. And when it does, Tule Lake will be just a memory.

Didn’t I say I’d always be your same stars? If you get to missing me, just look up.

If you remember yourself, you will remember me. I am always a part of you. I am your mother.

I remember you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know.

I’ve heard it said before that those who don’t learn from the past are bound to repeat it, and I just don’t know what I think about that. I figure I don’t have too much...

I remember when your name was just another name that rolled without thought off my tongue.Now, I can’t look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each lettter.Your name, which I played...

The whole world can’t lick us but we can lick ourselves by longing too hard for things we haven’t got any more – and by remembering too much.

Illumination is remembering your identity as the eternal spirit and energy that animates all that is.

You are speaking…as if the pleasure were one thing and the memory another. It is all one thing… what you call remembering is the last part of the pleasure.

What is the one thing that gets you up every morning? The one thing that keeps you going every day, every month, every year? Let me get you started. My one thing is this, ‘I’m...

Remembering tires a person out. this is something they don’t teach us. Exercising one’s memory is an exhausting activity. It draws our energy and wears down our muscles.

My world is a million shattered pieces put together, glued by my tears, where each piece is nothing but a reflection of YOU.

The dead do not needaspirin orsorrow,I suppose.but they might needrain.not shoesbut a place towalk.not cigarettes,they tell us,but a place to burn.or we’re told:space and a place to flymight be thesame.the dead don’t need me.nor do...

Sitting on the floor, I’d replay the past in my head. Funny, that’s all I did, day after day after day for half a year, and I never tired of it. What I’d been through...

Remembering the past always comes with an image or a view attached.

The first and last weakness of his life, before him again. For a moment he felt himself blinded by his own memories; his own remembrances of the wits and wiles of Marian Halcombe that would...

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.

The first lesson of branding: memorability. It’s very difficult buying something you can’t remember.

When you allow yourself to remember that you truly are a multidimensional being, you will begin experiencing yourself in a much more expanded way. What previously was believed to be supernatural becomes natural. Then you...

He stood with his two frail hands on his cane and his eyes closed, and breathed in deeply the scent of the past. “Sometimes,” he sighed, “I think the things I remember are more real...

Writing is the art of remembering and forgetting. You must forget what you’ve already written, because if you’re dwelling on your old material you can’t write new material, and you must remember all you’ve written...

Sometimes, remembering hurts too much.

How much time could you spend staring out the ocean, even if it was the ocean you’d loved since you were a boy?

I would like to learn, or remember, how to live.

You know the saying a rolling stone gathers no moss? I’m the opposite. I’ve gathered too much, and when one thing happens, it brings up everything else that’s ever been similar to it. I don’t...

They would think she was savoring the taste (blueberries, cinnamon, cream-excellent), but she was actually savoring the whole morning, trying to catch it, pin it down, keep it safe before all those precious moments became...

Trying to remember old dreams. A voice. Who came in.And meanwhile the rain, all day, all evening,quiet steady sound. Before it grew too darkwatched the blue iris leaning under the rain,the flame of the poppies...

Memories are never as true as the things one forgets.

I have to live if I want to be remembered.