#memory

Memory is the great deceiver. Perhaps there are some individuals whose memories act like tape recordings, daily records of their lives complete in every detail, but I am not one of them. My memory is a patchwork of occurrences, of discontinuous events roughly sewn together: The parts I remember, I remember precisely, whilst other sections seemed to have vanished completely. ↗

— Neil Gaiman

#individuality

Memory is not a storage place but a story we tell ourselves in retrospect. As such, it is made of storytelling materials: embroidery and forgery, perplexity and urgency, revelation and darkness. ↗

— Noam Shpancer

#storytelling #storytelling

It is, I think, the rarest of leisure, hard work mixed with hard pleasure, to refine one's time of deep thought or light regard into the utterly self-absorbed and equally and abundantly outward-seeking shape of the personal essay -- a story comprised of found fact, of analyzed emotion, of fictive memory. ↗

— Barry Lopez

#personal-essay #story #equality

Memory believes before knowing remembers. [Light in August] ↗

— William Faulkner

#nostalgia #nostalgia

To lead a human life, a man must have a notion of himself as having a past and a future. ↗

— Mary Warnock

#imagination

Memory is imagination in reverse. ↗

— Stephen Evans

#memory #imagination

I'll never forget anything about Middle Earth. That's part of my memory now so I won't miss anything. ↗

— David Wenham

#anything #earth #forget #i #memory

Forgetting who you are is so much more complicated than simply forgetting your name. It's also forgetting your dreams. Your aspirations. What makes you happy. What you pray you'll never have to live without. It's meeting yourself for the first time, and not being sure of your first impression. ↗

— Jessica Brody

#dreams #first-impressions #forgetting #memory-loss #sadness

I looked around at the rooms that I did not see as rooms but more as a landscape for my emotions, a biography of memory. ↗

— Anne Spollen

#emotions #landscape #memory #rooms #biography

How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering. ↗

— Charles Baudelaire

#him #how #i #little #man