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Memory Quotes (page 18)

Mark Twain quote: "If you tell the truth you do not need a good memory!"
If you tell the truth you do not need a good memory! Mark Twain
Gabriel Garcia Marquez quote: "Nostalgia, as always, had wiped away the bad memories and..."
Nostalgia, as always, had wiped away the bad memories and magnified the good ones. no one was safe from its onslaught. Gabriel Garcia Marquez
By the time dusk fell, he was back in his room. The last of the daylight lay like fine ashes on the roof-tops. He did not light his lamp, but sat by the fireplace in the dark, seeking in the far distance of his past some vague memory of a love-affair, some recollection of a friendship, with which to soften the hard tyranny of isolation. Francois Mauriac
Yet how often is it that we are rescued by a stranger, if ever at all? And how is it that our lives can become drained of the possibility of forgiveness and kindness - so drained that even one small act of mercy becomes a potent lifelong memory? How do our lives reach these points? Doug Coupland
John Steinbeck quote: "He never forgot anything but he never bothered to arrange his..."
He never forgot anything but he never bothered to arrange his memories. -Hazel, Cannery Row John Steinbeck
My particular memory is of a quail-pie. Quails may be alright for Moses in the desert, but, if they are served in the form of pie at dinner, they should be distributed at a side-table, not handed round from guest to guest. The countess having shuddered at it and resumed her biscuit, it was left to me to make the opening excavation. The difficulty was to know where each quail began and ended: the job really wanted a professional quail-finder, who might have indicated the on the surface of the... A. A. Milne
Alexander Dumas quote: "Your bitter memories still have time to turn into sweet ones."
Your bitter memories still have time to turn into sweet ones. Alexander Dumas
Arundhati Roy quote: "Smells, like music, hold memories. She breathed deep, and..."
Smells, like music, hold memories. She breathed deep, and bottled it up for posterity. Arundhati Roy
the child would ask him questions about the world that for him was not even a memory. He thought hard how to answer. There is no past. Cormac McCarthy
... her taste in music haunted my memory and I had to stop at Tower Records on the Upper West Side to buy ninety dollars' worth of rap CDs but, as expected, I'm at a loss: [...] voices uttering ugly words like digit, pudding, chunk. Bret Easton Ellis
On two chairs beneath the bole of the tree and canopied by a living bough there sat, side by side, Celeborn and Galadriel. Very tall they were, and the Lady no less tall than the Lord; and they were grave and beautiful. They were clad wholly in white; and the hair of the Lady was of deep gold, and the hair of the Lord Celeborn was of silver long and bright; but no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet... J. R. R. Tolkien
And so began my final stage of my boyhood in Mohawk. Later, as an adult, I would return from time to time. As a visitor, though, never again as a true resident. But then I wouldn't be a true resident of any other place either, joining instead the great multitude of wandering Americans, so many of whom have a Mohawk in their past, the memory of which propels us we know not precisely where, so long as it's away. Return we do, but only to gain momentum for our next outward arc, each further than... Richard Russo
Fyodor Dostoevsky quote: ", and if one has only one good memory left in one's heart,..."
..., and if one has only one good memory left in one's heart, even that may sometimes be the means of saving us. Fyodor Dostoevsky
The entire world was like a palace with countless rooms whose doors opened into one another. We were able to pass from one room to the next only by exercising our memories and imaginations, but most of us, in our laziness, rarely exercised these capacities, and forever remained in the same room. Orhan Pamuk
Who knows what true happiness is, not the conventional word.. but the naked terror. To the lonely themselves, that wears a mask, the most miserable outcast hugs some memory.. or some illusion. Joseph Conrad

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