Quotes about Memory

Knowing Momma, I knew that I never knew Momma.

La esencia se escapa, pero su aura permanece

People will forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.

But they talked, and from the side of the building where I waited for the ground to open up and swallow me, I heard the soft-voiced Mrs. Flowers and the textured voice of my grandmother merging and melting.

An important verity about knowledge is that the brain works most effectively with consciously retained information. We more easily remember what we want to recall later. When we feed our fourteen billion brain cells with information that will enrich us and help others, we are really learning to Think Big.

A powerful motivation for believing God in our present is intentionally remembering how He's worked in our past.

How has Paul kept his wonder? He never forgot who he had been.

Do not tell me death is real. It is not. I have sustained my heart for ages with the love my brother passed on to me, dead as he was.

I'm really freaked out by time. How, for instance, what I did last week is not real in the sense that it's happened. It's just a memory that's filed away in my brain.

This is the true nature of gratitude. Time gnaws and diminishes all things, but it increases and adds to our good deeds: anytime we have extended a generous hand to a rational human being, that goodness keeps growing and glowing in the man's heart, forever remembered, constantly contemplated.

Our soul is that part of our being which possesses intelligence, conscience, and memory—the real personality. Your body will die, but your soul lives on. And that soul has a "sixth sense"—the ability to believe, to have faith.

First poems! They must be written on casual scraps of faded paper, interspersed here and there with withered flowers, or a lock of blond hair, or a discolored piece of ribbon, and the trace of a tear must still be visible in several places ... But first poems that are printed, in livid black and white, on dreadfully smooth paper are poems that have lost the finest points of their sweet, virginal charm, and now arouse a ghastly feeling of distaste in the author.