Explore Quotes on Memories

Memory can glean, but can never renew. It brings us joys faint as is the perfume of the flowers, faded and dried, of the summer that is gone.

Memories are nothing but the lash with which yesterday flogs tomorrow.

To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking forward.

Memories are hunting horns whose sound dies on the wind.

A happy childhood can't be cured. Mine'll hang around my neck like a rainbow, that's all, instead of a noose.

I was shaking all over, and it wasn't from the vampire. Memories have teeth, too.

To an old memory like mine the present days are but as a little water poured on the deep.

Memory, when duly impregnated with ascertained facts, is sometimes surprisingly fertile.

Vague memories hang about the mind like cobwebs.

Memory itself is an internal rumour; and when to this hearsay within the mind we add the falsified echoes that reach us from others, we have but a shifting and unseizable basis to build upon. The picture we frame of the past changes continually and grows every day less similar to the original experience which it purports to describe.

The young remember most deeply.... When we are old and failing, it is the memories of childhood which can be summoned most clearly.

Memory never recaptures reality. Memory reconstructs. All reconstructions change the original, becoming external frames of reference that inevitably fall short.

She glances at the photo, and the pilot light of memory flickers in her eyes.

The existence of forgetting has never been proved: We only know that some things don't come to mind when we want them.

Human beings have only that confusing mass of chemically driven neurological storage to rely on. They're all subjective and emotion-tinged. How can they trust any of their memories?

We are all looking for something of extraordinary importance whose nature we have forgotten; I am writing the memoirs of a man who has lost his memory.

A person who has not completely lost the memory of paradise, even though it is a faint one, will suffer endlessly. He will feel the call of the essential world, will hear the voice that comes from so far away that one cannot find out where it comes from, a voice that cannot guide him.

The past scampers like an alley cat through the present, leaving the paw prints of memories scattered helter-skelter.

Hindsight is of little value in the decision-making process. It distorts our memory for events that occurred at the time of the decision so that the actual consequence seems to have been a "foregone conclusion." Thus, it may be difficult to learn from our mistakes.

How could anyone stay sane with entire lifetimes stored in one human mind?

My memories pale as I prevail upon them again and again. They become more and more ghostly. I fear nothing so much as losing them altogether and having only my blank endless mind to live in.