Memory Quotes

#1. For Shanti, every inch of life, every color or shape, bears a unique and pulsing resonance...Elephants don't enjoy those simple Freudian-type luxuries humans take for granted: aphasia, repression, sublimation, omission. Memory for them is an edifice, a fixed and growing thing, enlarging itself brick by brick with every passing hour. It is a burden. #Quote by Rajesh Parameswaran

#2. If the will, which in the law of our nature, were withdrawn from our memory, fancy, understanding, and reason, no other hell could equal, for a spiritual being, what we should then feel from the anarchy of our powers. It would be conscious madness,
a horrid thought! #Quote by John Milton

#3. Within that quiet little girl with no apparent needs lived a person with a great imagination. In that shell I lived and grew and planned, until there emerged a way to pull all the loose threads of my life together. #Quote by A.R. Cecil

#4. As a scar commemorates what happened, so is memory but itself a scar. #Quote by Carl Phillips

#5. But I feel as if I have said everything of importance that I need to say, I feel as if I'm losing my memory and forgetting who I am. #Quote by Paulo Coelho

#6. March 22, 2014

I have found the truth in the lies I told myself. I thought I could run from this woman, but she continues to chase me. In my mind, my heart, she's always there. An entire bottle of whiskey can't drown out her voice. I wake up each morning hoping it will finally be the day that I get over her. But then night falls and memories of her begin to torture me until sleep is no longer an option. Each night I fall into this abyss of nothingness, feeling only the emptiness of not having her beside me.

I have found the truth in the lies I told myself. I slept with another woman, all the while wishing it was her and I still went through with it.
What a fool I was. I still long to feel the satisfaction I was supposed to have felt that night. I still long to feel the freedom I'd hoped to gain from seeking refuge in the arms of another woman. But I'll never be free of her. It will take an eternity to break out of these shackles.

For one month, ONE month I couldn't keep my dick in my pants and yet for two years I haven't even so much as looked at another woman. I've remained completely faithful to a memory. Devoted to her smile.

Committed to her ever-changing green eyes. I have read through the past entries in this journal and I noticed that I have never used her name. As if inking it would somehow solidify the feelings I think I've always felt.

I have found the truth in the lies I told myself. I do love her.
Lo #Quote by Jacqueline Francis - The Journal

#7. Gratitude is the moral memory of mankind. #Quote by Georg Simmel

#8. To read 'Happy Talk' is to crash a party as vivid and surreal as Felini's 8. It's the business of show business, the American dream, told by a chorus of Americans locked just outside of that dream, outside of the United States, relegated to expatriate status on the shores of Haiti. Melo paints a version of Haiti that's an interior landscape perhaps even more than an externalized place. This Haiti is a plan, a memory, a morphine-drip fueled dream out to bond its inhabitants forever. #Quote by Monica Drake

#9. Thanks for the memory Of lingerie with lace, Pilsner by the case And how I jumped the day you trumped my one-and-only ace How lovely it was! #Quote by Leo Robin

#10. We have been lost to each other for so long. My name means nothing to you. My memory is dust. This is not your fault, or mine. The chain connecting mother to daughter was broken and the word passed to the keeping of men, who had no way of knowing. #Quote by Anita Diamant

#11. THE DUMPLINGS MADE by Mrs. Mills, all fluffy and tender and coated in gravy, dwelt in John Watson's memory with such high regard that he started awake from a dream of being in a storm at sea and trying to catch the dumplings in his mouth as they rolled back and forth along a plank. The dumplings only stopped rolling when the coach in which he dreamt also stopped rolling. #Quote by Kasey Lansdale

#12. It seems to me that being psycho-analysed is essentially a process where one is forced back into infantilism and then rescued from it by crystallising what one learns into a sort of intellectual primitivism-one is forced back into myth, and folk lore and everything that belongs to the savage or undeveloped stages of society. For if I say to you: I recognise in that dream,such and such a myth; or in that emotion about my father, that folk-tale; or the atmosphere of that memory is the same as an English ballad-then you smile, you are satisfied. As far as you are concerned, I've gone beyond the childish, I've transmuted it and saved it, by embodying it in myth. But in fact all I do, or you do, is to fish among the childish memories. of an individual, and merge them with the art or ideas that belong to the childhood of a people. #Quote by Doris Lessing

#13. They say that Hope is happiness But genuine Love must prize the past; And Mem'ry wakes the thoughts that bless: They rose first
they set the last. And all that mem'ry loves the most Was once our only hope to be: And all that hope adored and lost Hath melted into memory. Alas! It is delusion all
The future cheats us from afar: Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are. #Quote by Lord Byron

#14. When we spoke about attempts to give a man in camp mental courage, we said that he had to be shown something to look forward to in the future. He had to be reminded that life still waited for him, that a human being waited for his return. But after liberation? There were some men who found that no one awaited them. Woe to him who found that the person whose memory alone had given him courage in camp did not exist any more! Woe to him who, when the day of his dreams finally came, found it so different from all he had longed for! Perhaps he boarded a trolley, traveled out to the home which he had seen for years in his mind, and only in his mind, and pressed the bell, just as he has longed to do in thousands of dreams, only to find that the person who should open the door was not there, and would never be there again. #Quote by Viktor E. Frankl

#15. It wasn't the sort of kiss I'd had with him before, hungry, wanting, desperate. It wasn't the sort of kiss I'd had with anyone before. This kiss was so soft that it was like a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it was like someone running his fingers along them. #Quote by Maggie Stiefvater

#16. To an artist, a picture is both a sum of ideas and a blurry memory of 'pushing paint,' breathing fumes, dripping oils and wiping brushes, smearing and diluting and mixing. #Quote by James Elkins

#17. Some things don't last forever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down on the corners and peering in close, hoping you still recognize the person you see there. #Quote by Sarah Dessen

#18. The greatest memory for me of the 1984 Olympics was not the individual honors, but standing on the podium with my teammates to receive our team gold medal. #Quote by Mitch Gaylord

#19. Human memory works its own wheel, and stops where it will, entirely without reference to the last stop, and with no connection with the next. #Quote by William, Saroyan

#20. I was reminded of the old pain, a pain once so intense it was physical. #Quote by Patricia Cornwell

#21. What is so rewarding about friendship?" my son asked, curling his upper lip into a sour expression. "Making friends takes too much time and effort, and for what?"

I sat on the edge of his bed, understanding how it might seem simpler to go at life solo.

"Friendship has unique rewards," I told him. "They can be unpredictable. For instance...." I couldn't help but pause to smile crookedly at an old memory that was dear to my heart. Then I shared with my son an unforgettable incident from my younger years.

"True story. When I was about your age, I decided to try out for a school play. Tryouts were to begin after the last class of the day, but first I had to run home to grab a couple props for the monologue I planned to perform during tryouts. Silly me, I had left them at the house that morning. Luckily, I only lived across a long expanse of grassy field that separated the school from the nearest neighborhood. Unluckily, it was raining and I didn't have an umbrella.

"Determined to get what I needed, I raced home, grabbed my props, and tore back across the field while my friend waited under the dry protection of the school's wooden eaves. She watched me run in the rain, gesturing for me to go faster while calling out to hurry up or we would be late.

"The rain was pouring by that time which was added reason for me to move fast. I didn't want to look like a wet rat on stage in front of dozens of fellow students. Don't ask #Quote by Richelle E. Goodrich

#22. This is taking [photos] from everybody - the entire collective memory of what the Earth looks like - and linking all of that together. #Quote by Blaise Aguera Y Arcas

#23. I saw a pair of great tits some days ago. (Massingham Major, you are a dirty-minded boy, and if you snigger again, you will do five hundred lines.) The squeaking-wheel song of Parus major is always gladsome, a precursor to interesting scenes at the bird table. On this occasion, however, what hearing and seeing the two greenery-yallery Paridae first called up in me was a memory from last year's early Springtide: an aerial near-collision. A very young squirrel – native red, I am rejoiced to say – was leaping from one tree trunk to another, adjacent, just as a great tit was exploding outwards in flight from the second tree. You never saw a more indignant bird or a more startled squirrel in your life. #Quote by G.M.W. Wemyss

#24. Salt is added to dried rose petals with the perfume and spices, when we store them away in covered jars, the summers of our past. #Quote by Wallace Stegner

#25. We live in a time that demands a discourse of both critique and possibility, one that recognizes that without an informed citizenry, collective struggle, and viable social movements, democracy will slip out of our reach and we will arrive at a new stage of history marked by the birth of an authoritarianism that not only disdains all vestiges of democracy but is more than willing to relegate it to a distant memory. #Quote by Henry A. Giroux

#26. His mind floated in the amniotic fluid of memory, listening for echoes of the past. His father, meanwhile, had no idea that such a vivid scene was burned into Tengo's brain or that, like a cow in the meadow, Tengo was endlessly regurgitating fragments of the scene to chew on, a cud from which he obtained essential nutrients. Father and son: each was locked in a deep, dark embrace with his secrets. #Quote by Haruki Murakami

#27. We are who we are because of what we learn and what we remember. #Quote by Abhijit Naskar

#28. My sister compares her body to a junkyard and I find bits of scrap metal beneath her bed from boys who bury promises in her belly. Maybe love ruins you a little bit. Maybe we don't care. We are so young to hate everything so much. Can recite the periodic table from memory but still can't quite believe it when they say that they love us, too. #Quote by Kristina Haynes

#29. It is our duty to keep the memory of our heroes green. Yet they belong to the whole country; they belong to America. #Quote by Jefferson Davis

#30. Maybe the world isn't enough, or maybe the distinction between the world and fiction is not so clear. Fiction is made from the stuff of the world, after all, which includes dreams and wishes and fantasies and memory. And it is never really made alone, but from the material between and among us: language. #Quote by Siri Hustvedt

#31. Maybe that's what happens with age, I thought. All your life you force yourself to forget people who have hurt you, but as you get older and weaker their memory surfaces again, like a bubble in the water. You have to surrender, because you feel to tired to fight it and push it down again. And maybe, unexpectedly, you find out that instead, of revamping your anger, those memories produce an unexpected sweetness. #Quote by Francesca Marciano

#32. I was right when I said a very long time ago that our age would leave few living documents behind it: it was rare for anyone to keep a diary, letters were short and businesslike--"I'm alive and well"--and few memoirs were written. There are many reasons for this. Let me mention just one, not perhaps recognized by everybody: we were too often at loggerheads with our own past to give it proper thought. Within the half-century, our ideas on people and events have changed many times; conversations were broken off in mid-sentence; thoughts and feelings could not but be affected by circumstances. #Quote by Ilya Ehrenburg

#33. He said something like that:
"In all languages in the world, there is the same proverb: 'What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't grieve over.' Well, I say that there isn't any ounce of truth in it. The further off they are, the closer to the heart are all those feelings that we try to repress and forget. If we're far from exile, we want to store away every tiny memory of our roots. If we're far from the person we love, everyone we pass in the street reminds us of them.
At the end of the service, I went up to him and thanked him: I said I was a stranger in a strange land, and I thanked him for reminding me that what the eyes don't see, the heart does grieve over. And my heart has grieved so much, that today I'm leaving. #Quote by Paulo Coelho

#34. Dying may be the way of all things flesh, but living is too. Never let death shroud life with fear. Live beyond it, lad. Only then can the memory of those ye've loved and lost be rightly honored. #Quote by Micheline Ryckman

#35. Here we have the first lesson about the nature of memory: what you wish to forget, you may not be able to. What seems to have died, perhaps is just asleep. On the other hand, sometimes you wish to remember something, and there it stands at the doorway of your consciousness, and refuses to come in. You know you know something, the name of some useless celebrity, perhaps, and yet you cannot fish that name out of your inner aquarium. And this illustrates a critical feature of memory, which resembles, as it turns out, most of the processes in the internal realm: the same cause will regularly yield different, even opposite effects. #Quote by Noam Shpancer

#36. Is it fair to have given us the memory of what was and the desire of what could be when we must suffer what is? #Quote by Neil Jordan

#37. Those who are close to us, when they die, divide our world. There is the world of the living, which we finally, in one way or another, succumb to, and then there is the domain of the dead that, like an imaginary friend (or foe) or a secret concubine, constantly beckons, reminding us of our loss. What is memory but a ghost that lurks at the corners of the mind, interrupting our normal course of life, disrupting our sleep in order to remind us of some acute pain or pleasure, something silenced or ignored? We miss not only their presence, or how they felt about us, but ultimately how they allowed us to feel about ourselves or them. (prologue) #Quote by Azar Nafisi

#38. How infinite was love, twining in and out of hope and memory like a braid with three strong strands, so much the Bright Tower of every human's life and soul. #Quote by Stephen King

#39. But he hadn't appeared that night. Not the next morning, either. By the time she finally crossed paths with him the following afternoon, his mumbled "Merry Christmas" was the extent of their exchange.
It seemed they were back to silence.
I don't want you.
She tried to ignore the words echoing in her memory. They weren't true, she told herself. She was an expert at deceit; she knew a lie when she heard one.
Still. What else to believe, when he avoided her thus?
Although he rarely spoke to her over the next two days, Sophia frequently overheard him speaking of her. Even these remarks were the tersest of commands: "Fetch Miss Turner more water," or "See that her canopy doesn't go slack." She felt herself being tended, not unlike a goat. Fed, watered, sheltered. Perhaps she shouldn't complain. Food, water, and shelter were all welcome things.
But Sophia was not livestock, and she had other, more profound needs. Needs he seemed intent on neglecting, the infuriating man. #Quote by Tessa Dare

#40. Windows Server 2012 can now support: Up to 64 virtual processors per VM (with a maximum of 2,048 virtual processors per host) Up to 1 terabyte (TB) of random access memory (RAM) per VM (with up to 4 TB RAM per host) Virtual hard disks (VHDs) up to 64 TB in size #Quote by Mitch Tulloch

#41. It's just this: that there are places we all come from-deep-rooty-common places- that makes us who we are. And we disdain them or treat them lightly at our peril. We turn our backs on them at the risk of self-contempt. There is a sense in which we need to go home again-and can go home again. Not to recover home, no. But to sanctify memory. #Quote by Robert Fulghum

#42. Sometimes a glance, a few casual words, fragments of a melody floating through the quiet air of a summer evening, a book that accidentally comes into hands, a poem or memory-laden fragrance may bring about the impulse which changes and determines our whole life. #Quote by Anagarika Govinda

#43. I'm sure that you didn't think I would notice,
but we memorize the strangest things in a person
when we're in love with them. #Quote by Danabelle Gutierrez

#44. ...wars are orgies of forgetfulness. The twentieth century has archived vast catacombs, tunnels of information in which researchers get lost and in the end abandon their research, catacombs that ever fewer people enter. Stored away---forgotten. The twentieth century, a century of great tidying that ends in cleansing; the twentieth century, a century of cleansing, a century of erasure. Language perhaps remains, but it too is crumbling. #Quote by Daša Drndić

#45. loved tagging along when she pushed open the storeroom door and went inside. It was a small room but filled with an overwhelming array of sacks bulging with different kinds of beans, nuts, flour, sugar, rice, and a multitude of spices, emitting a symphony of assorted smells I can still summon into memory at will. Large glass jars squatted on the shelves, stacked to the ceiling, #Quote by Jean Naggar

#46. What is memory but the repository of things doomed to be forgotten, so you must have History. You must have labor to invent History. Being faithful to all that happens to you of significance, recording days, dates, events, names, sights not relying merely upon memory which fades like a Polaroid print where you see the memory fading before your eyes like time itself retreating. #Quote by Joyce Carol Oates

#47. What could he do but accept the disturbing extent to which memory was fictional and hope that the fiction lay at the service of a truth less richly represented by the original facts? #Quote by Edward St. Aubyn

#48. Your clear conscience is due to a poor memory. #Quote by R. Newman

#49. December is a bewitching month.
The grey of cold teases
to explode into something worthwhile,
into a dream of cold,
a starlight shower you can taste,
a cold that does not chill.

I've lost my memory
of my first snow--
did I gasp at a field of white?
Or scream at the freeze
untill my cheeks reddened?

The crunch underfoot is satisfying
and the thrill of virgin snow
near leaves. #Quote by Joseph Coelho

#50. I wanted to have virtual memory, at least as it's coupled with file systems. #Quote by Ken Thompson

#51. I loved her; I was sorry not to have had the time and the inspiration to insult her, to do her some injury, to force her to keep some memory of me. #Quote by Marcel Proust

#52. Rhythm becoming thought, thought becoming memory; memory, which tends to shuck itself, to peel away. You get older, look back through a child's tunnel vision, and realize you never knew the whole that tied the details together. You were just along for the ride, moving from experience to experience, a flat spectacle, some kind of guideless tour. You remember--or think you remember--what happened, but not where, or why. What you did, but not with who. Details fade. People's names get lost in the white noise. #Quote by Gemma Files

#53. I saw Jake in the hallway at school. I pretended not to notice him.

I saw Rachel, too. She had a dark look in her eyes. Like she hadn't slept. Like something was really wrong.

Even Cassie seemed grim. It had gotten to all of us. It's not so easy to just forget terror. It's not easy to just ignore the memory of your leg being ripped off. Of being dismembered. Torn apart.

One of these days, I thought, one of us is going to go crazy. Totally lock-me-up-in-a-rubber-room nutso. It was too much. This wasn't how life was supposed to be.

One of us would snap. One of us would lost it. It could happen, even to strong people.

-Animorphs #5, The Predator page 52 #Quote by K.A. Applegate

#54. I was probably unusually close to my parents, so I do what I can now to preserve the integrity of their memory. The Holocaust deserves to be remembered. #Quote by Norman Finkelstein

#55. If life has a base that it stands upon, if it is a bowl that one fills and fills and fills - than my bowl without a doubt stands upon this memory. #Quote by Virginia Woolf

#56. Faulty memory and distraction are a particular danger in what engineers call all-or-none processes: whether running to the store to buy ingredients for a cake, preparing an airplane for takeoff, or evaluating a sick person in the hospital, if you miss just one key thing, you might as well not have made the effort at all. A #Quote by Atul Gawande

#57. Rick's memory turned to fantasy as his mind took a different path than what reality had already turned into history. #Quote by Brenda Cothern

#58. They shared the weight of memory. They took up what others could no longer bear. Often, they carried each other, the wounded or weak. #Quote by Tim O'Brien

#59. Sometimes living with memory, with the thought of what friends, those who shared your soul and dreams, will do to you is worse than taking a bullet or having someone stab your flesh. There is a way of bleeding from one's soul. #Quote by Megan McKenna

#60. The ultimate luxury is to reread: to revisit a book to see how time has treated it, how memory has distorted it, or how my own passing years have cast a new light on it. #Quote by Michael Upchurch

#61. All great roads are paved with uncomfortable memories. #Quote by Amy Neftzger

#62. I'm sorry I don't remember."
He shrugs like it doesn't matter, but it does, and we both know it. "We'll make new memories. #Quote by Dan Krokos

#63. How do you like your blue-eyed boy Mr Death? #Quote by E. E. Cummings

#64. Sometimes we disfigure ourselves by what we think about ourselves rather than by what we do to ourselves. Some people have been disfigured emotionally because of what others did to them when they were children. Sometimes our memory banks become warehouses of beliefs and feelings that cripple our progress. #Quote by H. Norman Wright

#65. I usually tug my helmet's brim once, then push it back up into position, but I'm not wearing a helmet. I'm embarrassed to find myself miming the action through sheer muscle memory. #Quote by Barry Lyga

#66. As long as you keep secrets and suppress information, you are fundamentally at war with yourself…The critical issue is allowing yourself to know what you know. That takes an enormous amount of courage. #Quote by Bessel A. Van Der Kolk

#67. May her memory be a blessing. #Quote by Jo Walton

#68. I am stone and steel of your sleeping numbers;
I remember all you forget.
I will die as many times
as you make me over again. #Quote by Carl Sandburg

#69. In fact, sometimes when I look at something my memory does work. I remember the panel where Alex Toth told me, "Mike, if you really don't understand all that, you don't need to put it on there." #Quote by Mike Royer

#70. What lies before me is the hollow husk of a memory turned nightmare, with bleached colors, crumbling structures, and rot corrupting everything it touches. This is the work of Mother Nature gone insane, exacting her revenge and delving deeper into madness in the process. #Quote by Ken Lange

#71. To sit indoors was silly. I postponed the search for Savchenko and Ludmila till the next day and went wandering about Paris. The men wore bowlers, the women huge hats with feathers. On the café terraces lovers kissed unconcernedly - I stopped looking away. Students walked along the boulevard St. Michel. They walked in the middle of the street, holding up traffic, but no one dispersed them. At first I thought it was a demonstration - but no, they were simply enjoying themselves. Roasted chestnuts were being sold. Rain began to fall. The grass in the Luxembourg gardens was a tender green. In December! I was very hot in my lined coat. (I had left my boots and fur cap at the hotel.) There were bright posters everywhere. All the time I felt as though I were at the theatre.

I have lived in Paris off and on for many years. Various events, snatches of conversation have become confused in my memory. But I remember well my first day there: the city electrified my. The most astonishing thing is that is has remained unchanged; Moscow is unrecognizable, but Paris is still as it was. When I come to Paris now, I feel inexpressibly sad - the city is the same, it is I who have changed. It is painful for me to walk along the familiar streets - they are the streets of my youth. Of course, the fiacres, the omnibuses, the steam-car disappeared long ago; you rarely see a café with red velvet or leather settees; only a few pissoirs are left - the rest have gone into hiding underground. #Quote by Ilya Ehrenburg

#72. I reached out my hand, England's rivers turned and flowed the other way...
I reached out my hand, my enemies's blood stopt in their veins...
I reached out my hand; thought and memory flew out of my enemies' heads like a flock of starlings;
My enemies crumpled like empty sacks.
I came to them out of mists and rain;
I came to them in dreams at midnight;
I came to them in a flock of ravens that filled a northern sky at dawn;
When they thought themselves safe I came to them in a cry that broke the silence of a winter wood...

The rain made a door for me and I went through it;
The stones made a throne for me and I sat upon it;
Three kingdoms were given to me to be mine forever;
England was given to me to be mine forever.
The nameless slave wore a silver crown;
The nameless slave was a king in a strange country...

The weapons that my enemies raised against me are venerated in Hell as holy relics;
Plans that my enemies made against me are preserved as holy texts;
Blood that I shed upon ancient battlefields is scraped from the stained earth by Hell's sacristans and placed in a vessel of silver and ivory.
I gave magic to England, a valuable inheritance
But Englishmen have despised my gift
Magic shall be written upon the sky by the rain but they shall not be able to read it;
Magic shall be written on the faces of the stony hills but their minds shall not be able to contain it; #Quote by Susanna Clarke

#73. It was as if she had more than learned it off by heart. Though. it was as if their memory, the memory of all the Corregidora women, was her memory too, as strong with her as her own private memory, or almost as strong. But now she was Mama again. #Quote by Gayl Jones

#74. In contrast to ordinary memories both good and bad, which are mutable and dynamically changing over time, traumatic memories are fixed and static. They're imprints, engrams from past overwhelming experiences. Deep impressions carved into the sufferer's brain body and psyche. These harsh and frozen imprints do not yield to change, nor do they readily update with current information. The fixity of imprints prevents us from forming new strategies and extracting new meanings. There is no fresh ever-changing now, and no real flow in life. In this way, the past lives on in the present. #Quote by Peter A. Levine Ph.D.

#75. Old age is as forgetful as youth, and more incorrigible; it displays the same inattentiveness to conditions; its memory becomes self-repeating and degenerates into an instinctive reaction, like a bird's chirp. #Quote by George Santayana

#76. Memory has always been fundamental for me. In fact, remembering what I had forgotten is the way most of the poems get started. #Quote by Seamus Heaney

#77. This was the problem with a walk down memory lane. It was almost always foggy, and one was likely to trip and fall. #Quote by Viet Thanh Nguyen

#78. Sweet for a little even to fear, and sweet,
O love, to lay down fear at love's fair feet;
Shall not some fiery memory of his breath
Lie sweet on lips that touch the lips of death?
Yet leave me not; yet, if thou wilt, be free;
Love me no more, but love my love of thee.
Love where thou wilt, and live thy life; and I,
One thing I can, and one love cannot - die.
Pass from me; yet thine arms, thine eyes, thine hair,
Feed my desire and deaden my despair.
Yet once more ere time change us, ere my cheek
Whiten, ere hope be dumb or sorrow speak,
Yet once more ere thou hate me, one full kiss;
Keep other hours for others, save me this.
Yea, and I will not (if it please thee) weep,
Lest thou be sad; I will but sigh, and sleep.
Sweet, does death hurt? thou canst not do me wrong:
I shall not lack thee, as I loved thee, long.
Hast thou not given me above all that live
Joy, and a little sorrow shalt not give?
What even though fairer fingers of strange girls
Pass nestling through thy beautiful boy's curls
As mine did, or those curled lithe lips of thine
Meet theirs as these, all theirs come after mine;
And though I were not, though I be not, best,
I have loved and love thee more than all the rest.
O love, O lover, loose or hold me fast,
I had thee first, whoever have thee last;
Fairer or not, what need I know, what care?
To thy fair bud my blossom onc #Quote by Algernon Charles Swinburne

#79. It's funny what memory does, isn't it? My favorite holiday tradition might not have happened more than once or twice. But because it is such a good memory, so encapsulating of everything I love about the holidays, in my mind it happened every year. Without fail. #Quote by Molly O'Keefe

#80. The rolls of music that she herself had thrown into the trash with the pretext that they had rotted from dampness kept spinning and playing in her memory. #Quote by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

#81. The thread between these two goals - remembering now and remembering later - starts small and grows rapidly. You'll begin with short intervals (two to four days) between practice sessions. Every time you successfully remember, you'll increase the interval (e.g., nine days, three weeks, two months, six months, etc.), quickly reaching intervals of years. This keeps your sessions challenging enough to continuously drive facts into your long-term memory. #Quote by Gabriel Wyner

#82. Voluntary memory, the memory of the intellect and the eyes, [gives] us only imprecise facsimiles of the past which no more resemble it than pictures by bad painters resemble the spring. ... So we don't believe that life is beautiful because we don't recall it, but if we get a whiff of a long-forgotten smell we are suddenly intoxicated, and similarly we think we no longer love the dead, because we don't remember them, but if by chance we come across an old glove we burst into tears. A #Quote by Alain De Botton

#83. My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three, and, save for a pocket of warmth in the darkest past, nothing of her subsists within the hollows and dells of memory, over which, if you can still stand my style (I am writing under observation), the sun of my infancy had set: surely, you all know those redolent remnants of day suspended, with the midges, about some hedge in bloom or suddenly entered and traversed by the rambler, at the bottom of a hill, in the summer dusk; a furry warmth, golden midges. #Quote by Vladimir Nabokov

#84. We studied our angels for a few moments more, looking at where we had lain side by side in that sweet, quiet moment. I wished what I'd said was true, that we had truly left our mark on the mountain. But I knew that after the next snowfall, our angels would disappear into the whiteness and be nothing more than a memory. #Quote by Richelle Mead

#85. And overpowered by memory
Both men gave way to grief. Priam wept freely
For man - killing Hector, throbbing, crouching
Before Achilles' feet as Achilles wept himself,
Now for his father, now for Patroclus once again
And their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house. #Quote by Homer

#86. Who that has ever visited the borders of this classic sea, has not felt at the first sight of its waters a glow of reverent rapture akin to devotion, and an instinctive sensation of thanksgiving at being permitted to stand before these hallowed waves? All that concerns the Mediterranean is of the deepest interest to civilized man, for the history of its progress is the history of the development of the world; the memory of the great men who have lived and died around its banks; the recollection of the undying works that have come thence to delight us for ever; the story of patient research and brilliant discoveries connected with every physical phenomenon presented by its waves and currents, and with every order of creatures dwelling in and around its waters. The science of the Mediterranean is the epitome of the science of the world. #Quote by Edward Forbes

#87. Every tear is washing away an old memory that hurts. It's ok this is how we let go. #Quote by Tracy Malone

#88. It tasted like a shade of white near blue; it tasted like the idea of pearls; it tasted like a memory nearly grasped but lost at the last moment. #Quote by Catherynne M Valente

#89. You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know. #Quote by Rene Daumal

#90. Clare concentrated on the words trying hard to press them into her memory and wishing they were solid objects that she could keep and carry around with her. #Quote by Marisa De Los Santos

#91. When it's a memory, you already know the outcome so it's easy to think it was an easier time. Looking forward is much more uncertain, and is more complicated. But I don't think it is. Not really. #Quote by Karen Hawkins

#92. Those moments when we learn that mothers rage and fathers kill, that friends betray and authority is fallible, or that our own blank, innocent ignorance can destroy the pure, the good, and the loved are moments the very memory of which constitutes the beginning of a strategy to live in a world where such horrors exist. #Quote by Samuel R. Delany

#93. We kill, kill, kill. Flesh, spirit, whatever gets in our way. It's like our whole purpose is to extinguish life. And for those who live, there's memory, like a curse. We're such a mixture of frailty and cruelty. #Quote by Douglas Clegg

#94. If slavery persists as an issue in the political life of black America, it is not because of an antiquarian obsession with bygone days or the burden of a too-long memory, but because black lives are still imperiled and devalued by a racial calculus and a political arithmetic that were entrenched centuries ago. This is the afterlife of slavery--skewed life chances, limited access to health and education, premature death, incarceration, and impoverishment. #Quote by Saidiya V. Hartman

#95. There is nothing so fleeting as the memory of benefits received. #Quote by Francesco Guicciardini

#96. Part memory part distance remaining
mine in the ways that I learn to miss you #Quote by W.S. Merwin

#97. War ends at the moment when peace permanently wins out. Not when the articles of surrender are signed or the last shot is fired, but when the last shout of a sidewalk battle fades, when the next generation starts to wonder whether the whole thing ever really happened. World War II ended as war always ends -- by trailing off into nothingness and doubt. Its final monument has never been seen by mortal eyes. It's a phantom image at the edge of a rumor: an unmarked grave in the depths of the South American jungle where a weird and decrepit old man, half forgotten by the world, at last entered the lists of oblivion. #Quote by Lee Sandlin

#98. The most beautiful landscapes in the world, if they evoke no memory, if they bear no trace of a remarkable event, are uninteresting compared to historic landscapes. #Quote by Madame De Stael

#99. He seemed not to need mere physical sustenance anymore, surviving instead on a spiritual alchemy of memory and desire. #Quote by Mark Beauregard

#100. All they could do was flutter their fans and bat their eyes. The matchmaker Mother hired bragged that they were perfect porcelain dolls. What she didn't say was they had no minds of their own." Shang grimaced at the memory without looking at her. "They'd say anything to make me like them."
How familiar that sounds. Mulan put her hands on her hips. "Not all girls are like that. You have to look at it from their perspective, too. Girls are raised to be pretty and graceful, and quiet." She made a face. "They aren't allowed to speak their minds, and they don't have a choice in who they marry. My parents were lucky that they fell in love, but their marriage was arranged, too. And my mother, she doesn't even belong to her family anymore after they got married. It wasn't my mother's decision, but her family's. They told her that a woman's only role in life is to bear sons."
Shang leaned forward. "You sound quite passionate about this."
His closeness made Mulan hunch back. Remembering who she was pretending to be, she felt her cheeks burn. "I just... I mean, I bet there are some girls who'd make better soldiers than boys. If they were given the chance."
"A female soldier? That's the craziest thing I've heard."
"Girls can be strong, too."
"Not like us, Ping."
Mulan hid a smile. "You'd be surprised. #Quote by Elizabeth Lim

#101. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but absence also dulls the memory and then we tend to forget who we were missing in the first place. #Quote by Anthony T. Hincks

#102. I have a bad memory for facts. #Quote by Stendhal

#103. Memories aren't stored in the heart or the head or even the soul, if you ask me, but in the spaces between any given two people. #Quote by Jodi Picoult

#104. The Western memory museum is now mostly a visual one. #Quote by Susan Sontag

#105. I've heard people in the Middle East tell me that the most inspiring thing for them as people struggling against dictatorship in the Middle East is the memory of the civil rights movement. #Quote by Peter Beinart

#106. A line, an area of tone, is not really important because it records what you have seen, but because of what it will lead you on to see. Following up its logic in order to check its accuracy, you find confirmation or denial in the object itself or in your memory of it. #Quote by John Berger

#107. You are not suffering yesterday or tomorrow. You are only suffering your memory and your imagination. #Quote by Sadghuru

#108. Memory is the 'filling cabinet' of the brain wherein is stored all thought impulses, all conscious experiences, and all sensations which reach the brain through the five physical senses. #Quote by Napoleon Hill

#109. He pointed at Brother Jeremiah, who had come to a halt in front of a statue just slightly taller than he was, its base overgrown with moss. The statue was of an angel. The marble of the statue was so smooth it was almost translucent. The face of the angel was fierce and beautiful and sad. In long white hands the angel held a cup, its rim studded with marble jewels. Something about the statue tickled Clary's memory with an uneasy familiarity. There was a date inscribed on the base, 1234, and words inscribed around it: NEPHILIM: FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI.
"Is that meant to be the Mortal Cup?" she asked.
Jace nodded. "And that's the motto of the Nephilim - the Shadowhunters - there on the base."
"What does it mean?"
Jace's grin was a white flash in the darkness. "It means 'Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enemies Since 1234.'"
"Jace - "
It means, said Jeremiah, The descent into Hell is easy. #Quote by Cassandra Clare

#110. His face almost looked the way it did when he was a teenager, when there was the subtle expression of both confidence and mischief in his darkly handsome eyes. When I think of him now, though, I don't picture his face the way it is. What I see is from a memory, from a moment when he must have been eleven or twelve years old and we were both in our backyard and it was summertime and I was drawing in a coloring book and he was there in the green grass and he didn't know I was watching him. He was crawling around on all fours; he was practicing being a lion or a tiger or more probably a leopard and he was growling to himself, stalking the shadow of a bird, and he didn't see me staring at him and I think my mother was there, looking at us from an upstairs window, watching us both and gently smiling, and what I remember most is that all of us were happy then with who we were at that moment; at that moment, all of us were quietly happy. #Quote by Joe Meno

#111. Forgiveness is not a matter of exonerating people who have hurt you. They may not deserve exoneration. Forgiveness means cleansing your soul of the bitterness of 'what might have been,' 'what should have been,' and 'what didn't have to happen.' Someone has defined forgiveness as 'giving up all hope of having had a better past.' What's past is past and there is little to be gained by dwelling on it. There are perhaps no sadder people then the men and women who have a grievance against the world because of something that happened years ago and have let that memory sour their view of life ever since. #Quote by Harold S. Kushner

#112. He came to the conclusion that it was because there were some things you remembered with your head, like numbers, and other things you remembered with your heart, like shapes, colours, and shadows. He was a heart-memory type. #Quote by B. Glen Rotchin

#113. I have tried so hard to forget, but memory is a stubborn thing. Memories linger no matter what I do. They're there all the time – and worse. Even my dreams aren't safe. I have vicious nightmares, and they're real – too real – and suddenly I'm back there. I can't will them away, I can't squeeze them away, and the more I try the more they burrow in my head. I want to cut open my skull and dig my fingers into my brain and just pull them out. #Quote by James Morris

#114. I'm not the person I used to be. I never was. #Quote by Marty Rubin

#115. Despite this documentation for both traumatic amnesia and essentially accurate delayed recall, memory science is often presented as if it supports the view that traumatic amnesia is very unlikely or perhaps impossible and that a great many, perhaps a majority, maybe even all, recovered memories of abuse are false…Yet no research supports such an implication and a great deal of research supports the premise that forgetting sexual abuse is fairly common. and that recovered memories are sometimes essentially true. #Quote by Jennifer J. Freyd

#116. One after another those words travelled over my memory, repeating themselves again and again with a wearisome, mechanical reiteration. I was roused from what felt like a trance of many hours--from what was really, no doubt, the pause of a few moments only--by a voice calling to me. #Quote by Wilkie Collins

#117. Every one complains of a poor memory, no one of a weak judgment. #Quote by Francois De La Rochefoucauld

#118. A memory flashed back at me, of his willy bobbing about while he wrestled with his briefcase - well dignity and nudity aren't often seen together. #Quote by Kate Saunders

#119. The cold stars spun to the ancient rhythm, the august march of an everlasting symphony. They are old, the stars, and their memory is long. #Quote by Rick Yancey

#120. The problem with getting old was that each day had to compete with the thousands of others gone by. How wonderful would a day have to be to win such a beauty contest? To even make it into the finals? Never mind that memory rigged the game, airbrushed the flaws from its contestants, while the present had to shuffle into the spotlight unaided, all pockmarked with mundanities and baggy with annoyances. #Quote by Daryl Gregory

#121. Great actors are people who just meld into the part without calling attention to the fact that they are so-and-so doing this part. They may never become huge stars, but will always, in memory, stay respected actors. #Quote by Shekhar Kapur

#122. Tim looked my way again. "And how to you think you will be judged, on the day the trumpet sounds? You who have caused so much pain, so many deaths."
"I have been true to Him. I have stood up for His name when all around me
"
"For His name," Tim said. "But what of what He taught? What of the innocents you have killed in His name?"
"I've only known one miraculous innocent," Father Peter said.
"And you've spent your lifetimes trying to atone for your betrayal, to protect his memory. A memory that doesn't need your protection."
"You're not going to change my mind."
"I know," Tim said. His voice was sad. #Quote by Robert J. Wiersema

#123. The things that have come into being change continually. The man with a good memory remembers nothing because he forgets nothing. #Quote by Augusto Roa Bastos

#124. Every memory we have changes slightly each time we think about it. We add stuff we learn in other places, or we forget stuff that doesn't seem important anymore. Or you think you remember something, like from your childhood, but actually you've just seen so many pictures of it, and your parents have told you about it, so you think you remember it, but you don't. A memory is a process. Instead of a thing. Like a story we tell ourselves that changes from the standpoint we're looking at it. #Quote by Katherine Howe

#125. I am frightened now. I am frightened that when he fades from my memory, a piece of me will die too. The feelings, the things I have learned, the ideas I have had today, so many ideas, so many feelings, they will die with my memory. I fear that loss. But more, a terror that I must share with my future self. I fear what this means for me. If you forget the joy of this day, then what joy you give to others will also be forgotten, and your life has no consequence, no meaning, no worth. I am a shadow, blasted away by the sun, a meaningless occlusion of light that fades with the day. #Quote by Claire North

#126. madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-flowers which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy) #Quote by Marcel Proust

#127. To an old memory like mine the present days are but as a little water poured on the deep. #Quote by George Eliot

#128. I have woken up inside one of my own memories. I am really here, yet I know I am not. #Quote by Emily Barr

#129. Memory is corrupted and ruined by a crowd of memories. If I am going to have a true memory, there are a thousand things that must first be forgotten. Memory is not fully itself when it reaches only into the past. A memory that is not alive to the present does not remember the here and now, does not remember its true identity, is not memory at all. He who remembers nothing but facts and past events, and is never brought back into the present, is a victim of amnesia. #Quote by Thomas Merton

#130. Gossip is only the lack of a worthy memory. #Quote by Elbert Hubbard

#131. Mistakes,' he said with effort, 'are also important to me. I don't cross them out of my life, or memory. And I never blame others for them. #Quote by Andrzej Sapkowski

#132. He'd kept his figure despite being past his first youth. Pretty good for nearly forty.
Who was she fooling? She knew quite well that he was thirty-five and a half, exactly five years older than she. Their birthdays were two days apart. It was absurd the way trivial facts lingered in the memory, facts as unimportant as what she had for dinner on Tuesday. Except that she couldn't remember last week's menu and she was annoyingly aware of Max Quinton's preference for lamb over beef, for apple tart over syllabub. He preferred Shakespeare to the modern poets, the country to the town. #Quote by Miranda Neville

#133. Raising a child puts you in touch, deeply, inescapably, daily, with some pretty heady issues: What is love and how do we get ours? Why does the world contain evil and pain and loss? How can we discover dignity and tolerance? Who is in power and why? What's the best way to resolve conflict? If we want to give an AI any major responsibilities, then it will need good answers to these questions. That's not going to happen by loading the works of Kant into a computer's memory; it's going to require the equivalent of good parenting. #Quote by Ted Chiang

#134. His mother's memory tore at his heart because she had died loving him, when he was too young and selfish to love her in return, #Quote by George Orwell

#135. If to be venerated for benevolence, if to be admired for talents, if to be esteemed for patriotism, if to be beloved for philanthropy, can gratify the human mind, you must have the pleasing consolation to know that you have not lived in vain. And I flatter myself that it will not be ranked among the least grateful occurrences of your life to be assured that, so long as I retain my memory, you will be thought on with respect, veneration, and affection by your sincere friend. #Quote by George Washington

#136. What I know are simple truths. I know that the fabric of memory is reinforced by stories, rent by silences. I know that power dreads memory. I know that memory outlasts power's viciousness. I know . . . that a voiceless man is as good as dead. #Quote by Okey Ndibe

#137. The problem with memory is that is changes whatever it touches. It is never that accurate. As a result, I end up modifying and revising my own experiences. It's myth making. #Quote by Li-Young Lee

#138. He shook his head, absorbed in one of his feats of memory, those brief periods of scholastic rapture where he lost touch with the world around him, absorbed completely in conjuring up knowledge from all its sources. #Quote by Diana Gabaldon

#139. It is a mistake to think that the past is dead. Nothing that has ever happened is quite without influence at this moment. The present is merely the past rolled up and concentrated in this second of time. You, too, are your past; often your face is your autobiography; you are what you are because of what you have been; because of your heredity stretching back into forgotten generations; because of every element of environment that has affected you, every man or woman that has met you, every book that you have read, every experience that you have had; all these are accumulated in your memory, your body, your character, your soul. So with a city, a country, and a race; it is its past, and cannot be understood without it. #Quote by Will Durant

#140. Movies, over time, as they do or don't find their audience, or they find a different audience, they change in your memory and in the eyes of those who see it. #Quote by Patrick Lussier

#141. A very beautiful woman hardly ever leaves a clear-cut impression of features and shape in the memory: usually there remains only an aura of living color #Quote by William Bolitho

#142. It's not soft. It's not sweet. It's something wild and three long years in the making. A kiss that purges the memory of all other kisses before him. #Quote by A. Zavarelli

#143. No one can soothe my inner being like you. No one can make me look to the future with such excitement like you did. No one can understand me, fulfill me, fit me like you did." ~Emma Ranstein #Quote by Lindsay Detwiler

#144. He had not joined in on the laughter or even on the beating. Violence of any sort horrified him. Nevertheless, he stood by while Mike, their leader, drove a boot down on Joe's hand. The hideous cracking sound of breaking bones came into his mind and a helpless shudder ran through him. Joe, whose high piercing scream against the autumn skies of indifference, replayed in his memory with shrill agony. Several times, he had shouted: "He's had enough! Let up on him!" Which earned him looks of contempt from the others. They had left the kid there, screaming in that back alley. He remembered trying to drown those screams out of his mind. #Quote by Jaime Allison Parker

#145. Well, hey, let's just make everything into a closure, and then we'll have our general garbage collector, installed by 'use less memory'. #Quote by Larry Wall

#146. Ll arguments concerning existence are founded on the relation of cause and effect; that our knowledge of that relation is derived entirely from experience; and all our experimental conclusions proceed upon the supposition that the future will be conformable to the past ... Without the influence of custom, we should be entirely ignorant of every matter of fact beyond what is immediately present to the memory and senses. #Quote by David Hume

#147. But art should require no instrument but memory. #Quote by Paul Theroux

#148. When you are dead your memory may live on so you need to be sure of what you want people to remember and even if you are worth remembering #Quote by Christina Estabrook

#149. The effort mined a core of dizziness inside him. He resisted it, but then realizing that there was nothing attractive about consciousness, nothing he cared to know about the someone in charge of death and butterflies, he let himself go spiraling down past layers of darkness and shining wings, darkness and mystical light, and a memory of pain so bright that it became a white darkness wherein he lost all track of being. #Quote by Lucius Shepard

#150. It'd be nice to feel that claustrophobic feeling or the anxiety that the film Melancholia produces, but for me I look at it and think about what I was doing that day, where we shot it ... It's kind of like a weird memory. It's more a photo album of memories than being able to feel connected to myself. It's not easy to do. #Quote by Kirsten Dunst

#151. Practicing is not only playing your instrument, either by yourself or rehearsing with others - it also includes imagining yourself practicing. Your brain forms the same neural connections and muscle memory whether you are imagining the task or actually doing it. #Quote by Yo-Yo Ma

#152. Time is eating away my memory. Time, and this illness, this trespasser in my brain. #Quote by Tan Twan Eng

#153. I don't regret anything. Every scar, every memory, has made me who I am. Without the pain, I wouldn't have learned, or grown. I can't go back to who I was." Anna #Quote by Kyle West

#154. I would give everything, even memory - especially memory - if I could hold Leo again. The weight of his absence is the weight of the entire world. I #Quote by Simon Van Booy

#155. And that love letter you wrote," Rowan added helpfully. "Signing it with another chap's name." Emma Smallwood's eyes widened, and she turned to look at him, brows high. Henry felt his neck heat. His cravat seemed suddenly far too tight. "That's right," Phillip nodded as the memory returned to him. "Pugsworth, was it not?" Julian grinned at Miss Smallwood, clearly enjoying himself. "Did you really think this Pugsworth fellow in love with you?" Heaven help him, Henry hoped she wouldn't burst into disillusioned tears. Not all these years later. And not over Milton Pugsworth. But Miss Smallwood remained her imperturbable self. "Goodness no," she said. "For all his faults, Mr. Pugsworth spelled exceptionally well and had the neatest hand I ever saw. Your brother, on the other hand, never did learn to spell. And I recognized his sloppy scratchings the moment I saw them." Phillip gave her a long look of amused approval. "Bravo, Emma. #Quote by Julie Klassen

#156. The real difference is that with fantasy - and by that I mean fantasy which can simultaneously tap into a cosmopolitan commonality at the same time as it springs from an individual and unique perspective. In this sort of fantasy, a mythic resonance lingers on - an harmonious vibration that builds in potency the longer one considers it, rather than fading away when the final page is read and the book is put away. Characters discovered in such writing are pulled from our own inner landscapes... and then set out upon the stories' various stages so that as we learn to understand them a little better, both the monsters and the angels, we come to understand ourselves a little better as well. #Quote by Charles De Lint

#157. Memory belongs to the imagination. Human memory is not like a computer which records things; it is part of the imaginative process, on the same terms as invention. #Quote by Alain Robbe-Grillet

#158. Eventually, that feeling fades, but there is always the memory of those days. When you're young, everything is butterflies. What I mean is - it's all new. I guess he was telling you to still believe, to hold on to your butterflies. #Quote by Brian Joyce

#159. Your memory has always been given to opportunistic revision. #Quote by Dave Eggers

#160. Three Moonie 65-megaton hydrogen bombs exploded nearly simultaneously at very high altitude. With no air around the bombs to absorb the initial blast of the explosions, and convert the energy into mechanical shock waves - - all the nuclear energy blasted out in its electromagnetic form. It was a brutally intense pulse of Compton recoil electrons and photoelectrons that created huge electric and magnetic fields that were MURDER on sensitive electronic equipment at tremendous distances. The electro-magnetic fields, coupled with electric and computer systems, producing huge voltage spikes in the circuits and damaging current surges along all signal paths, fusing precision engineered memory and micro-boards and virtual drives and CPUs into fried silicon laced junk! Nanobots to Nanoscrap in Nanoseconds! #Quote by @hg47

#161. What was our life like? I almost don't remember now. Though I remember it, the space of time it occupied. And I remember it fondly. #Quote by Richard Ford

#162. Sometimes he mulled over the idea that the next time the door opened he would take control of the family affairs as he had done in the past; these musings led him once more after such a long interval to conjure up the figures of the boss, the head clerk, the salesmen, the apprentices, the dullard of an office manager, two or three friends from other firms, a sweet and fleeting memory of a chambermaid in one of the rural hotels, a cashier in a milliner's shop whom he had wooed earnestly but too slowly- they all appeared mixed up with strangers or nearly forgotten people, but instead of helping him and his family they were each and every one unapproachable, and he was relieved when they evaporated. #Quote by Franz Kafka

#163. Every night, I slip into the empty winter land of memory. #Quote by Ned Hayes

#164. The framing of women's abuse narratives as quasi-legal testimony encourages the public, as interpreters, to take the stance of cross-examiners who categorize forgetting as memory failure and insist on completeness and consistency of memory detail through all repeated tellings. The condensed, summarized, or fragmentary nature of abuse memories will rarely withstand this aggressive testing. Few people's memories can. #Quote by Sue Campbell

#165. Short term memory makes no difference if you've lost your mind. #Quote by Ellis

#166. David Epstein, the author of the best book on athletics in recent memory - "The Sports Gene" - wrote to me to say that he thinks I'm being overly generous. He points out that, for years, there used to be an "all-star challenge" on television, in which the best professional athletes from a variety of sports competed in a kind of makeshift decathlon. #Quote by Malcolm Gladwell

#167. No matter how you spend the time, you'll have regrets. It'll never become a beautiful memory. Screw the once-in-a-lifetime crap. #Quote by Minari Endou

#168. Every few minutes or so I would remember the look from the man who had wanted fifty cents, and I'd look at that framed memory hanging in myself and it meant I was here, back in this sick city, but in other ways I was not here at all and anyone who looked closely could see that I had nothing to give, that I was a junk drawer, a collection of things that may or may not have had a use. #Quote by Catherine Lacey

#169. We have populations now in the West with a very short memory span. One reason for this short memory span is that television over the last fifteen years has seen a big decline in the coverage of the rest of the world. #Quote by Tariq Ali

#170. And when the last red man shall have perished from the earth and his memory among white men shall have become a myth, these shores shall swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children's children shall think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway or in the silence of the woods they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night, when the streets of your cities and villages shall be silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled and still love this beautiful land. The white man will never be alone. Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not altogether powerless. #Quote by Chief Seattle

#171. He wouldn't spend another standing in the darkness, hot and sick and shaking inside with a confused mess of feelings that weren't worth analyzing. That he shouldn't have felt anyway.
With Rachel gone it was like balancing on the edge of a cliff - and all the little wildflowers, the netting of grass and roots that kept the cliff from sliding into the sea below, were gone. It was just Matt standing there looking down, waiting to fall.
Even Rachel's memory, the sweet recollection of all they had built, all they had shared, was no longer strong enough to fight gravity. From the moment he had looked across the wet grass and seen Nathan Doyle standing in the shadow of a stone saber-toothed tiger, something had changed inside him. Something battened down had torn free, like a sail taking its first deep breath of sea air.
It terrified him.
And at the same time it exhilarated him.
Which terrified him all the more. #Quote by Josh Lanyon

#172. He knew that the very memory of the piano falsified still further the perspective in which he saw the elements of music, that the field open to the musician is not a miserable stave of seven notes, but an immeasurable keyboard (still almost entirely unknown) on which, here and there only, separated by the thick darkness of its unexplored tracts, some few among the millions of keys of tenderness, of passion, of courage, of serenity, which compose it, each one differing from all the rest as one universe differs from another, have been discovered by a few great artists who do us the service, when they awaken in us the emotion corresponding to the theme they have discovered, of showing us what richness, what variety lies hidden, unknown to us, in that vast, unfathomed and forbidding night of our soul which we take to be an impenetrable void. #Quote by Marcel Proust

#173. Instinctively, my eyes clasped on Amar's. He was shocked, his face pale. He grabbed me; his hands entangled in my hair even as my fingers were wrapped around the hilt that destroyed him.
"I love you, jaani. My soul could never forget you. It would retrace every step until it found you." He looked at me, his dark eyes dulling, as if all the love that had once lit them to black mirrors was slowly disappearing. "Save me."
The glow of the candles cast pools of light onto the ground, illuminating his profile. I knew, now, why Nritti begged me not to look at him. His gaze unlocked something in me. It was both visceral and ephemeral, like heavy light. The eyes of death revealed every recess of the soul and every locked-away memory of my past and present life converged into one gaze…
I was weightless, my vison unfocused and hazy until the memory of the woman in the glass garden engulfed me. Slowly, the woman turned and a wave of shock shot through me--I was staring at myself. #Quote by Roshani Chokshi

#174. Her face crumpled and he felt her pain as if it was his own. He wanted to take it back, but just like that memory, it was always going to be there.
She worked to get control over her features, then said, "I'm sorry I didn't defend you. I'm sorry I didn't tell them you were my guest."
Jem hadn't thought he cared anymore, not really, but her words were tugging loose the hard, painful knot in his chest. "It's okay."
She shook her head. "It's not. It wasn't."
He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. He didn't know what else to say and all he wanted was to touch her skin, let her know that he wasn't that boy anymore and that she wasn't that girl. #Quote by Mary Jane Hathaway

#175. Is that what eternity is for, to muck over a lifetime's minutiae? Who could have imagined that one would have forever to remember each moment of life down to its tiniest component? #Quote by Philip Roth

#176. The two places that I had most imprinted in my mind and in my memory were UCLA and Indiana. To play at one and coach at the other is unbelievable. #Quote by Steve Alford

#177. To inquire into the intricacies of a distant landscape, then, is to provoke thoughts about one's own interior landscape, and the familiar landscapes of memory. The land urges us to come around to an understanding of ourselves. #Quote by Barry Lopez

#178. We had our thing. It is a really good memory but now we're older. Things change. #Quote by Abbi Glines

#179. Aunt Rachel removes the knaffea from the oven and places it on its sumptuous tray; the shredded phyllo dough is crisp and brown, crackling with hot, rose-scented syrup. Nestled within, like a naughty secret, is the melting layer of sweet cheese. The pastry is freshly hot, the only way to eat it, really, with its miraculous study in contrasts - the running cheese hidden within crisp, crackling layers of baked phyllo and the distinctive, brocaded complexities of flavors. It's so hot that it steams in your mouth, and at first you eat it with just the tips of your teeth. Then the layers of crisp and sweet and soft intermingle, a series of surprises. It is so rich and dense that you can eat only a little bit, and then it is over and the knaffea is just a pleasant memory - like a lovely dream that you forget a few seconds after you wake. But for a few seconds, you knew you were eating knaffea. #Quote by Diana Abu-Jaber

#180. I know well that, at this hour, I could as easily forget your name as the food by which I live; nay, it were easier to forget the food, which only nourishes my body miserably, than your name which nourishes both body and soul, filling the one and the other with such sweetness that neither weariness nor fear of death is felt by me while memory preserves you to my mind. Thank, if the eyes could also enjoy their portion, in what condition I should find myself. #Quote by Michelangelo To Tommaso Cavalieri

#181. When I described Madame de T's night, I recalled the well-known equation from one of the first chapters of the textbook of existential mathematics: the degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting. From that equation we can deduce various corrollaries, for instance this one: our period is given over to the demon of speed, and that is the reason it so easily forgets its own self. Now I would reverse that statement and say: our period is obsessed by the desire to forget, and it is to fulfill that desire that it gives over to the demon of speed; it picks up the pace to show us that it no longer wishes to be remembered; that it is tired of itself; sick of itself; that it wants to blow out the tiny trembling flame of memory. #Quote by Milan Kundera

#182. The memory of a past happiness is the anguish of today #Quote by Edgar Allan Poe

#183. Instead, thoughts race, as if, in a mind devoid of memory, each idea has too much space to grow and move, to collide with others in a shower of sparks before spinning off into its own distance. I #Quote by S.J. Watson

#184. The places we are born come back to us. They disguise themselves as words, memory loss, nightmares. They are the way we sometimes wake with a pressure on our chests that is animal-like or turn on a light and see someone we'd thought was long gone standing there looking at us. #Quote by Daisy Johnson

#185. Take me to unexplored paradise & one of your best islands, I want to cross the pacific ocean and make a great memory. Let's go to the eastern coast of the Philippines where the waves meet the sky. You know where it is! #Quote by El Fuego

#186. Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
I won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's who we are
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy, who had to sing this song
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
I! don't! care!
We'll carry on
We'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We'll carry on
And though you're broken and defeated
Your weary widow marches on #Quote by Gerard Way

#187. She will warm herself on the memory of you when there is nothing else, and be sustained. #Quote by Scott Hawkins

#188. TO GROW OUR MIND- We must learn new things. We must CARE for more things. We must TEACH more things. We must SHARE more things. We must RETAIN more things. To grow our mind - We don't need education, We need a good memory. #Quote by Lorenzo Victory

#189. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"
"You might've mentioned it once or twice before,"
"That's right. I did mention it before. I remember telling you how amazing you are. I think we were in front of a mirror."
"Does that sound familiar?"
"Um, yeah. That seems vaguely familiar."
"Vaguely? Maybe I didn't pound it into you hard enough."
"Oh, I think you pounded it in plenty hard."
"Maybe I should've taken the time to give you a good tongue-lashing, too, then."
"Oh, I think the form of communication you used was very effective."
"So it's all coming back to you now?"
"Yes, it's all coming back to me."
"If you're lying, I could sweat it out of you, you know."
"I'm not lying. It's etched into my memory. Permanently."
"Maybe we should revisit it, just so you're clear on everything we discussed. I want to make sure it's in there. Nice and deep. So you never forget it."
"I doubt there's anything you could do to get it in there any deeper."
"Oh, I can think of one or two things. The only way we'll know for sure, though, is to try. And I don't know about you, but I'm committed to this. Invested. And I'm nothing if not thorough. #Quote by Michelle Leighton

#190. memory of Aurelia is as open and frank as the sun on a summer day. But this gives the lie to all that. Anyway, it #Quote by Tracy Rees

#191. One of the schools of Tlön goes so far as to negate time; it reasons that the present is indefinite, that the future has no reality other than as a present hope, that the past has no reality other than as a present memory. Another school declares that all time has already transpired and that our life is only the crepuscular and no doubt falsified an mutilated memory or reflection of an irrecoverable process. Another, that the history of the universe - and in it our lives and the most tenuous detail of our lives - is the scripture produced by a subordinate god in order to communicate with a demon. Another, that the universe is comparable to those cryptographs in which not all the symbols are valid and that only what happens every three hundred nights is true. Another, that while we sleep here, we are awake elsewhere and that in this way every man is two men. #Quote by Jorge Luis Borges

#192. Yet at least we can admire the wise Prearrangement which has ordained that, as they have no hopes, so they shall have no memory to recall, and no forethought to anticipate, the miseries and humiliations which are at once a necessity of their existence and the basis of the constitution of Flatland. #Quote by Edwin A. Abbott

#193. These were true things, Laura knew, but they were only part of the truth which was something less orderly than Kate made it sound. Some parts of the full, disorderly truth were lodged in Kate and Laura like splinters of corroding steel. Their feelings had grown around the sharp, wounding edges which didn't hurt anymore but were still there, fossils of pain laid down in the mixed-up strata of memory. #Quote by Margaret Mahy

#194. There are no files in my memory that are repressed,' she asserted. 'You have files that are blocked. I have none so painful that they're blocked. There are no secrets, no locked doors - nothing is hidden. I can infer that there are hidden areas in other people, so that they can't bear to talk of certain things. The amygdala locks the files of the hippocampus. In me, the amygdala doesn't generate enough emotion to lock the files of the hippocampus. #Quote by Oliver Sacks

#195. You think you know what is just and what is not. I understand. We all think we know." I had no doubt, myself, then, that at each moment each one of us, man, woman, child, perhaps even the poor old horse turning the mill-wheel, knew what was just: all creatures come into the world bringing with them the memory of justice. "But we live in a world of laws," I said to my poor prisoner, "a world of the second-best. There is nothing we can do about that. We are fallen creatures. All we can do is to uphold the laws, all of us, without allowing the memory of justice to fade. #Quote by J.M. Coetzee

#196. But what price do you put on a great memory? #Quote by John C. Maxwell

#197. Memory may be mischievous but it is also remarkable, self-cleaning, creative, ultimately as magical as a prediction. #Quote by David Schmahmann

#198. It kind of scares me though, to keep wearing it every day like I do. What happens when I run out of it? Will I forget what she looked like? What it looked like when the sun reflected on her hair? The way her pillow always smelled like her? Will my memory of her run out too? #Quote by Keary Taylor

#199. To forgive, there must have been a wound; and to be wounded, there must have been the gatherings of pride. There is no generosity of heart as long as there is a referential memory, the "me" and the "mine. #Quote by Jiddu Krishnamurti

#200. The room was empty. It was full of silence and the memory of a nice perfume. #Quote by Raymond Chandler