Memory Quotes - Page 17

Memory loss is the key to human reproduction. If you remembered what new parenthood was actually like you wouldn’t go around lying to people about how wonderful it is, and you certainly wouldn’t ever do it twice.

My survival was up to me. I had nothing and I had no one. What I did have, I told myself, was my mind, my imagination, my memory, my feelings, my spirit. These were important and powerful things.

Memory has strange power keeps full data of the past.

Everybody dies, but great souls ressurects in our memories.

The Memory Of You Is Like A Drug To Me

I transform fiction into memory.

Memory is fiction . . . All memory is a way of reconstructing the past. . . The act of narrating a memory is the act of creating fiction. [Armitstead, Claire. “Damon Galgut talks about his novel In a Strange Room.” The Guardian. 10 September 2010.]

I found myself intent on keeping the memories of the year to myself.
[...]
I didn't want to share them. Because I didn't want to dilute them

Every man's memory is his private literature.

A great memory does not make a mind, any more than a dictionary is a piece of literature.

The desire for glory is no different from that instinct for preservation that is common to all creatures. It is as if we enhance our being if we can gain a place in the memory of others; it is a new life that we acquire, which becomes as precious to us as the one we received from Heaven.

When all is lost, there is still a memory.

I fly through memory to find a newborn love.

There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the senses.

what it is

is the memory of a dance

a song you heard long ago

to hear it is to be young again

and for once

for once you are happy

But tears are an indulgence. Memory sings.

Joy recollected is indeed no longer the emotion itself.

Everything was brighter and more colorful in those years, as if my youth was ending in an explosion of unreal passion. Memories like these make my life sacred and holy.

A man does not know how he came by the half a pie he is holding in his hand!

Could there be anything more sad and more lonely than remembering what terrible things the future will bring?