Quotes about Memory

Getting the past wrong is almost as problematic as not getting the past into our minds at all.

The memory should be specially taxed in youth, since it is then that it is strongest and most tenacious. But in choosing the things that should be committed to memory the utmost care and forethought must be exercised; as lessons well learnt in youth are never forgotten.

The French say that to part is to die a little. To be forgotten too is to die a little. It is to lose some of the links that anchor us to the rest of humanity.

'Rebecca' by Daphne du Maurier was the first grown-up book I read, when I was aged about 12.

For pain must enter into its glorified life of memory before it can turn into compassion.

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

The secret of our emotions never lies in the bare object, but in its subtle relations to our own past.

Love is natural; but surely pity and faithfulness and memory are natural too. And they would live in me still, and punish me if I did not obey them. I should be haunted by the suffering I had caused. Our love would be poisoned.

He was doctrinally convinced that there was a total absence of merit in himself; but that doctrinal conviction may be held without pain when the sense of demerit does not take a distinct shape in memory and revive the tingling of shame or the pang of remorse. Nay, it may be held with intense satisfaction when the depth of our sinning is but a measure for the depth of forgiveness, and a clenching proof that we are peculiar instruments of the divine intention.

Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them.

She saw the years to come stretch before her like an autumn afternoon, filled with resigned memory. Life to her could never more have any eagerness; it was a solemn service of gratitude and patient effort. She walked in the presence of unseen witnesses—of the Divine love that had rescued her, of the human love that waited for its eternal repose until it had seen her endure to the end.

To every man his little cross. (He sighs.) Till he dies. (Afterthought.) And is forgotten.