Howard Marks: [about to murder his wife and her lover] I forgot my glasses. You know how blind I am without them.
Maria: [saying her bed time prayers] I forgot the other boy. Oh, what's his name? Oh, well, God bless What's-his-name.
Malcolm Crowe: [looking at Vincent in the bathroom] Vincent Gray. I do remember you. Quiet, very smart, compassionate. Unusually compassionate. Vincent Gray: You forgot cursed.
Randolph Duke: [being wheeled out on a stretcher] Where's Beeks? Where in the hell is Beeks? Billy Ray Valentine: [to Winthrope] Yeah, I forgot about that guy.
Sapphire: William? I forgot to tell you. Your mom called. She says you gotta call home immediately. And she says to tell you, ''I know what's going on.''
History doesn't remember gardens. … You forgot the wise administrators, those who kept the peace, those who brought prosperity. You needn’t feel embarrassed, though. So did history.
In this watering-place I acted an heroic character, badly studied; and being a novice on such a stage, I forgot my part before a pair of lovely blue eyes.
It's 2am and I took seventeen shot of vodka just trying to forget your name but the only name I forgot was mine and drunk or sober you're the only thing on my mind.
. . .how he had loved Christine more than he had understood, that sometimes one forgot what it meant, really, to love, the way the tide of a marriage advances and retreats, . .
For I inhabit the spaces in between, where auras mix and hearts reach out and knowing hovers, and where sticks against each human the little burrs of others, long-ago brushed against but never forgot.
After the baby, I got bigger, and I like it. I like me better now than when I was young and skinny. I don't understand this extreme fashion for being anorexic-skinny. We forgot about women with curves - real women. We're not embracing that anymore.
I almost forgot to tell you - you have the right to remain silent, but if you do, my boys at the station will process your bones to help you confess.
Ghosts... they are the completions of the deads intended gestures, there unfinished plans still hanging in the air - something like when you forgot one thing and so you pantomime the motion.
Putting Henry at shortstop - it was like taking a painting that had been shoved in a closet and hanging it in the ideal spot. You instantly forgot what the room had looked like before.
She would drink until the trembling stopped. Then she would wilt over the piano like one of Celia's spinaches when Tam Lin forgot to water the garden.
Women of Manhattan, magnificent as they were, they forgot sometimes they weren’t immortal. They could throw themselves like confetti into a fun-filled Friday night, with no thought as to what they fell into by Saturday.
Her body was spattered with tiny bits of the reverend’s flesh and blood, like someone had combined shrimp and tomato soup and then forgot to put the lid on the blender.
Florentino Ariza always forgot when he should not have that women, and Prudencia Pitre more than any other, always think about the hidden meanings of questions more than about the questions themselves.
You boys can keep your virgins, give me hot old women in high heels with asses that forgot to get old.
She caught herself working so hard at mothering that she forgot to enjoy her children. -from ~Homecoming Season~
If I read our story backwards, it's about how I un-broke your heart, and then we were happy until one day, you forgot about me forever.
