Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.
Be a collector of good ideas. Keep a journal. If you hear a good idea, capture it, write it down. Don’t trust your memory.
But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.
Knowledge is real knowledge only when it is acquired by the efforts of your intellect, not by memory.
A million feelings. A thousand thoughts. A hundred memories. All for one person.
But if you don’t have that memory of being loved, you are condemned to search the world for something to fill you up. But no matter how much money you make or how famous you become, you will still feel empty. What you are really searching for is unconditional love, unqualified acceptance. And that was the one thing that was denied to you at birth.
Money can’t buy happiness, but it will certainly get you a better class of memories.
I believe that the combination of pencil and memory creates a kind of practical magic, and magic is dangerous.
It’s a little place on the Pacific Ocean. You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific? They say it has no memory. That’s where I want to live the rest of my life. A warm place with no memory.
Time’s the thief of memory.
The darkest moments of our lives are not to be buried and forgotten, rather they are a memory to be called upon for inspiration to remind us of the unrelenting human spirit and our capacity to overcome the intolerable.
Never blame anyone in your life. Good people give you happiness. Bad people give you experience. Worst people give you a lesson. And best people give you memories.
Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.
Memories and possibilities are even more hideous than realities.
Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.
Whether we and our politicians know it or not, Nature is party to all our deals and decisions, and she has more votes, a longer memory, and a sterner sense of justice than we do.
I don’t care if someone remembered me. Life is for living and memories for those who we leave behind.
Your memory is a monster; it summons with will of its own. You think you have a memory, but it has you.
Let your memory be your travel bag.
I am hopelessly in love with a memory. An echo from another time, another place.