Memory is a stopgap for humans, for whom time flies and what is passed is passed.

Memory depends very much on the perspicuity, regularity, and order of our thoughts. Many complain of the want of memory, when the defect is in the judgment; and others, by grasping at all, retain nothing

Memory is the treasure house of the mind wherein the monuments thereof are kept and preserved

Memory depends very much on the perspicuity, regularity, and order of our thoughts. Many complain of the want of memory, when the defect is in the judgment; and others, by grasping at all, retain nothing

Memory is the treasure house of the mind wherein the monuments thereof are kept and preserved

It is notorious that the memory strengthens as you lay burdens upon it, and becomes trustworthy as you trust it

I feel that there is no such thing as ultimate forgetting; traces once impressed upon the memory are indestructible

When I was a little kid, I simply loved music and enjoyed expressing myself with my body.

What is memory but another narrative form?

The human mind, as we know from personal experience, is a chronic time traveler, but we are repeatedly amazed by its ability to hitch up the body, the body that resides the only place it can— in present time— and pull it along like a wagon, with its entire load of sensory equipment, backward or forward into other time zones.

Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common.

Of her own experience she had no memory of the thing happening; but in her instinct, which was the experience of all mothers of wolves, there lurked a memory of fathers that had eaten their new-born and helpless progeny.

History is the memory of a nation

Memory sometimes makes merciful deletions.

Ultimate horror often paralyses memory in a merciful way.

The gods give, like twin flowers,
power and ruin, memory and oblivion.

Escaped the torments of memory with the aromatic fumes of gold cyanide

There is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome and useful for life in later years than some good memory, especially a memory connected with childhood, with home.

Shame has a poor memory.

I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed, promising subsequent penitence, but not yet moved to begin.

I accomplished something big and that’s a memory I will never forget.

There is a pain so utter It swallows substance up Then covers the Abyss with Trance So Memory can step Around across upon it As one within a Swoon Goes safely where an open eye Would drop Him — Bone by Bone —

The mind must be trained, rather than the memory.

Everyone has a photographic Memory, some just don’t have film.

Only those with no memory insist on their originality.

It takes a huge effort to free yourself from memory.

It takes a huge effort to free yourself from memory, but when you succeed, you start to realize that you’re capable of far more than you imagined.

So long as the memory of certain beloved friends lives in my heart, I shall say that life is good.

At grief so deep the tongue must wag in vain; the language of our sense and memory lacks the vocabulary of such pain.

This is how grace works; it enters the soul, penetrates the heart, saturates the conscience, abides in the memory, affects the affections, gives understanding to the understanding, and imparts real life to the heart, which is the seat of life.

Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.

Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

The memory has as many moods as the temper, and shifts its scenery like a diorama.

Childhood has no forebodings, but then, it is soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow.

With memory set smarting like a reopened wound, a man’s past is not simply a dead history, an outworn preparation of the present: it is not a repented error shaken loose from the life: it is a still quivering part of himself, bringing shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame.

As the child’s mind was growing into knowledge, his mind was growing into memory.

That which I have seen, in that little moment, will never go out from my memory, but will abide there; and I shall see it all the days, and dream of it all the nights, till I die. Would God I had been blind!

I treasure the memory of the past misfortunes. It has added more to my bank of fortitude

Memory as it grows fainter loosens them, and notwithstanding the illusion by which we want to be duped and which, out of love, friendship, politeness, deference, duty, we dupe other people, we exist alone.

But should a sensation from the distant past-like those musical instruments that record and preserve the sound and style of the various artists who played them-enable our memory to make us hear that name with the particular tone it then had for our ears.

And then, gradually, the memory of her would fade away, I had forgotten the girl of my dream.

I think it would be just to say the most essential characteristic of mind is memory, using this word in its broadest sense to include every influence of past experience on present reactions.

Live out of your imagination instead of out of your memory.

I have no memory. Every day is new because I don’t remember the day before. Every minute is like the first minute of my life

I have always noticed in politics how often men are ruined by having too good a memory.

Despotism often presents itself as the restorer of order and by its very name it appeals to the memory of a long series of benefits

How vast a memory has Love

The memory of a good deed lives

AeschylusThe sleepless pain when a loved one becomes a memory

Memory is the mother of all wisdom

Memory is deceptive because it is colored by today’s events.

Anyone who conducts an argument by appealing to authority is not using his intelligence; he is just using his memory.

There are four powers: memory and intellect, desire and covetousness. The two first are mental and the others sensual. The three senses sight, hearing, and smell cannot well be prevented; touch and taste not at all.

Study without desire spoils the memory, and it retains nothing that it takes in.

Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination when awake?

I don’t decide to represent anything except myself. But that self is full of collective memory.

The brain appears to possess a special area which we might call poetic memory and which records everything that charms or touches us, that makes our lives beautiful.

There is a certain part of all of us that lives outside of time. Perhaps we become aware of our age only at exceptional moments and most of the time we are ageless.

The first step in liquidating a people is to erase its memory.