Memories of our lives, of our works and our deeds will continue in others.
Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams.
We cannot change our memories, but we can change their meaning and the power they have over us.
Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory.
Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains; another, a moonlit beach; a third, a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth.
Contrary to popular belief, the past was not more eventful than the present. If it seems so it is because when you look backward things that happened years apart are telescoped together, and because very few of your memories come to you genuinely virgin.
Even though our lives wander, our memories remain in one place.
What we remember from childhood we remember forever - permanent ghosts, stamped, inked, imprinted, eternally seen.
Memory itself is an internal rumour.
The memory represents to us not what we choose but what it pleases.
Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these.
Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory.
We do not know the true value of our moments until they have undergone the test of memory.
Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains...
What you see is from outside yourself, and may come, or not, but is beyond your control. But your fear is yours, and yours alone, like your voice, or your fingers, or your memory, and therefore yours to control. If you feel powerless over your fear, you have not yet admitted that it is yours, to do with as you will.
Be a collector of good ideas, but don't trust your memory. The best collecting place for all of the ideas and information that comes your way is your journal.
Dates are convenient hooks on which we can hang our memories of events. But history is all about people - people like you and me who did things to change the world.
Truth comes home to the mind so naturally, that when we learn it for the first time, it seems as though we did no more than recall it to our memory.
We must avoid however, snapping away, shooting quickly and without thought, overloading ourselves with unnecessary images that clutter our memory and diminish the clarity of the whole.
Our memories make us... even the darkest of them all.
We are our memories," Dodge said. "That's all we are. That's what makes us the person we are. The sum of all our memories from the day we were born. If you took a person and replaced his set of memories with another set, he'd be a different person. He'd think, act, and feel things differently.
we are nothing more than the sum of our memories and experiences
What are we after all our dreams, after all our memories?
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