No Memory Quotes
Ever poised on that cusp between past and future, we tie memories to souvenirs like string to trees along life’s path, marking the trail in case we lose ourselves around a bend of tomorrow’s road.
What is strange is that we may remember what we have done, but not always why we did it.
To be left with only the trace of a memory is to gaze at an armchair that's still molded to the form of a love who has left never to return: It is to grieve, dear reader, it is to weep.
I didn't want to remember...yet in remembering, it dawned on me - finally - just how far down God had reached to free me.
Have you ever been homesick for someplace that doesn'tactually exist anymore? Someplace that exists only in yourmind?
I now know how your angercame from skeletonsthat rattled in your heartand you couldn't escape them.
Never be afraid when God brings back your past. Let your memory have its way with you. It is a minister of God bringing its rebuke and sorrow to you.
Sometimes we live too much in the past, remembering what we wished had happened.
. . . things whose perishing had been arrested by their power to make her love them.
What you see is not what wee se. What you see is distracted by memory, by being who you are, all this time, for all these years.
Memory shimmers as a crystal lakethat reflects all things invisible.
Some people say it's easy to lie. This may be true for them, but the hard part is remembering the lie because a lie has no memory.
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.
Love is inaudible—until you hear it. And once you do, you’ll never forget the sound of her voice.
We must forget in order to remain present, forget in order not to die, forget in order to remain faithful.
So these things happen, deep in our lives. We do not speak of them. We hide them even from ourselves, but they do not leave us.
...dark embers smolder inside me - one touch and they flare - who would have thought memory combustible, or near you bright sparks appear?...
My mom used to say that’s why we have memory. And the opposite of memory—hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can build off our pasts and make futures.
Well we have to. We have to remember everything. If we don’t, by the time we grow up it’ll be gone forever.
Aristotle was convinced that a trained memory helped the development of logical thought processes.
Gonzaga was the kind of place you’d not even think about loving until you’d left it for a couple of years.
In our beautiful memoryWe were all handsomeWe could all singWe all had the heart Of the prettiest girl in townAnd we all hit .300
I breathed in the memory of his lips, the softness of them, and how they felt tracing across my skin, leaving ripples of goosebumps in their wake.
...your memory is a warm stone hidden in my hand I'm always turning over...
...I want to live doubly - first with you and then afterwards in memory ...
Nature has certain mechanism to record all memories of every life being.
In memory, she lived and moved and laughed, but all that a photograph could offer was one frozen moment of a life.
We may just be specters in this world, but our stories, if they are remembered and retold, become real and solid and alive... Once you hear a story, it becomes part of you. It can't die.
...I still cannot tap on your walls and discover by the hollow or firm sounds which of your walls are merely decorative, and which ones hold everything up.
If I could just capture each memory in a bottle the maybe you people would understand how much I've suffered, how much I've been through, but most importantly how far I have come.
From key signature to coda, from downbeat to the sound of life's final fermata, our pasts set the tone for all that was, that is, and that ever would be.
(...) always regretted that good memory often prevents us from thinking for ourselves.
Deep in Decemberit's nice to remember without a hurt the heart is hollow.
Events, once happened, lose reality, alter with a glance, a storm, a night. In time, the past never happened. But who could know? Who could know that the past is not as solid as this instant…
What is it like to wear another person’s skin?”“I don’t have a good answer for that, ” I said. “It hurts.”“Can you remember their stories? Can you feel the love that they felt?
He liked the fragility of those moments suspended in time. Those memories whose only function is to leave just a trace in memory.
True stories can't be told forward, only backward. We invent them from the vantage point of an ever-changing present and tell ourselves how they unfolded.
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.
The soft strings of the lute rippled with memories, and the maid's lilting voice made Mary sigh as she closed her eyes. She fell asleep filled with sadness, but without regret.