Quotes about Memory
But what is a memorial, when you come right down to it, but a commemoration of wounds endured? Endured, and resented. Without memory, there can be no revenge.
— Margaret Atwood
That was all quite long ago. I see it in retrospect, indulgently, from the point I've reached now. But how else could I see it. We can't really travel to the past, no matter how we try. if we do, it's as tourists.
— Margaret Atwood
I don't know why they are all so eager to be remembered. What good will it do them? There are some things that should be forgotten by everyone, and never spoken of again.
— Margaret Atwood
They told us to depend on memory, because nothing written down could be relied on. The Spirit travels from mouth to mouth, not from thing to thing: books could be burnt, paper crumbles away, computers could be destroyed. Only the spirit lives forever, and the Spirit isn't a thing.
— Margaret Atwood
How young they are, how frisky! I thought. How touchingly innocent! Was I ever like that? I could not remember.
— Margaret Atwood
I remember a television program I once saw; a rerun, made years before. I must have been seven or eight, too young to understand it. It was the sort of thing my mother liked to watch: historical, educational. She tried to explain it to me afterwards, to tell me that the things in it had really happened, but to me it was only a story. I thought someone had made it up. I suppose all children think that, about any history before their own. If it's only a story, it becomes less frightening.
— Margaret Atwood
I am like a room where things once happened and now nothing does, except
— Margaret Atwood
What was the rationale for all this pillaging? Souvenirs. These people needed something to remember themselves by. An odd thing, souvenir-hunting: now becomes then even while it is still now. You don't really believe you're there, and so you nick the proof, or something you mistake for it.
— Margaret Atwood
It disturbs me that he can remember some of these things about himself, but not others; that the things he's lost or misplaced exist now only for me. If he's forgotten so much, what have I forgotten?
— Margaret Atwood
Every war is the war for whoever's lived through it.
— Margaret Atwood
I've forgotten about these things all winter, but here they are again, and when I see them I remember them, I know them, I greet them as if they are home.
— Margaret Atwood
The bathrobe was magenta, a colour that still makes him anxious whenever he sees it.
— Margaret Atwood