Part of being creative is not being super-duper focused.

If you want to live a memorable life, you have to be the kind of person who remembers to remember.

Our lives are the sum of our memories. How much are we willing to lose from our already short lives by … not paying attention?

Memory is like a spiderweb that catches new information. The more it catches, the bigger it grows. And the bigger it grows, the more it catches.

What makes things memorable is that they are meaningful, significant, colorful.

The more we remember, the better we are at processing the world. And the better we are at processing the world, the more we can remember about it.

To the extent that experience is the sum of our memories and wisdom the sum of experience, having a better memory would mean knowing not only more about the world, but also more about myself.

...who we are and what we do it is fundamentally a function of what we remember.

As bad as we are at remembering names and phone numbers and word-for-word instructions from our colleagues, we have really exceptional visual and spatial memories.

Invented languages have often been created in tandem with entire invented universes, and most conlangers come to their craft by way of fantasy and science fiction.

Memory training is not just for the sake of performing party tricks; it's about nurturing something profoundly and essentially human.

We can not just live any how. There are consequences for every action, where evil or good.

They say that a few minutes each day of petting your dog can raise your serotonin levels.

If a building becomes architecture, then it is art.

Often girls feel deeply cared about as small children but then find as we develop willpower and independent thought that the world stops affirming us, that we are seen as unlovable.

Doing classic plays is wonderful. It's a wonderful way of developing style.

I guess that my activities inspire people and that I offer opportunities without realising what is going to happen next.

My father was a motorsports journalist and a motorbike fan. He gave me my motocross bike.

This wonder (as wonders last) lasted nine daies.

I make music with no boundaries.

The grave is but the threshold of eternity. What a world were this, how unendurable its weight, If they whom death hath sundered, did not meet again!