I want to fill my mind with life-enhancing, positive, beautiful memories. The dark experiences can remain buried without a funeral.
The words with which a child's heart is poisoned, whether through malice or through ignorance, remain branded in his memory, and sooner or later they burn his soul.
A soul could be resurrected and re-born to another body, its memories restored, but once the house it belonged to had been emptied, they could no longer call it home."~Taznikos Abyssos
The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head. There is the illusion of aliveness.
History is what we write, not what we remember. Why should we tarnish the memory of our planet by enshrining our less then noble deeds?
His memory is perfectly clear and serves no good, no purpose at all. He has seen things before (the fly in the bottle, the indeterminate will). Santa Muerte, Saint Death, we pray to you to swallow our breath.
His memory is perfectly clear and serves not good, no purpose at all. He has seen things before (the fly in the bottle, the indeterminate will). Santa Muerte, Saint Death, we pray to you to swallow our breath.
Memory did not let go; it remained the net dragged in one's wake, with all sorts of strange things snarled in the knotted strands.
Those who pay their bills on time are soon forgotten. It is only by not paying one's bills that one can hope to live in the memory of the commercial classes.
He was in a strange, badly lit room, wearing even stranger clothes, getting an earful from an unknown woman, in a language that he could and couldn’t exactly place in a very disturbing way. These were not his memories.
I'd had much practice turning my mind away from certain memories of my childhood. I could quickly dial her remembered voice from a whisper to a silence.
I dance to the beat of the earth the memories are the lyrics I write nature leads my soul through this existence I call life.
Having ascended to some spiritual strength by focusing on the power of the feminine, it is no doubt tempting to wield this strength against that which triggers memories of having once been weaker.
Memory, I realize, can be an unreliable thing; often it is heavily coloured by the circumstances in which one remembers, and no doubt this applies to certain of the recollections I have gathered here.
Maybe heaven entailed more than a soul residing in a single place, but instead having pieces of yourself spread among the hearts and memories of people you've touched.
Now he knew that any memories he might cherish during the last years of his life would be only fictions from a biography he'd never lived.
If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.
If I could capture the rays of the sun in a can, I'd paint a canvas with it and have you look at my work until the memory of my work was burned in your mind and your retinas burned out.
Overriding all of them, however, was the memory of 1918, the belief that the Jews, wherever and whoever they might be, threatened to undermine the German war effort, by engaging in subversion, partisan activities, Communist resistance movements and m...
If there's one thing I've still got, it's my memory. Which is too bad. Maybe if I forgot things once in a while, we'd all be a little bit happier.
To forget is the secret of eternal youth. One grows old only through memory. There's much too little forgetting.
