She was afraid to suggest to him that to most people, nothing "happens." That most people merely live from day to day until they die. That, after he had been dead a year, doubtless fewer than five people would think of him oftener than once a year. That there might even come a year when no one on earth would think of him at all.
Gwendolyn BrooksNothing is more responsible for the good old days than a bad memory.
Franklin P. AdamsTag: memory
أحيانًا يخيفني، ويرعبني، ويذكرني بطفولتي، إنني أشتاق لأن أكون أكثرا شبهًا به. إن كل رجل يبدأ موته بموت أبيه.
Orhan PamukTag: memory father fatherhood
The psychoanalytic liberation of memory explodes the rationality of the repressed individual. As cognition gives way to re-cognition, the forbidden images and impulses of childhood begin to tell the truth that reason denies.
Herbert MarcuseTag: memory psychoanalysis repression
Sitting in his old schoolroom on the sofa with little cushions on the arms and looking into Natasha's wildly eager eyes, Rostov was carried back into that world of home and childhood which had no meaning for anyone else, but gave him some of the greatest pleasure in his life.
Leo TolstoyWhat you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.
Julian BarnesWas this their exact exchange? Almost certainly not. Still, it is my best memory of their exchange.
Julian BarnesTag: memory
In my terms, I settled for the realities of life, and submitted to its necessities: if this, then that, and so the years passed. In Adrian's terms, I gave up on life, gave up on examining it, took it as it came. And so, for the first time, I began to feel a more general remorse - a feeling somewhere between self-pity and self-hatred - about my whole life. All of it. I had lost the friends of my youth. I had lost the love of my wife. I had abandoned the ambitions I had entertained. I had wanted life not to bother me too much, and had succeeded - and how pitiful that was.
Julian BarnesTag: reality ambition memory self-pity remorse compromise regret
Odysseus inclines his head. "True. But fame is a strange thing. Some men gain glory after they die, while others fade. What is admired in one generation is abhorred in another." He spread his broad hands. "We cannot say who will survive the holocaust of memory. Who knows?" He smiles. "Perhaps one day even I will be famous. Perhaps more famous than you.
Madeline MillerTag: time fame memory heroes glory mythology
You remind me of a boy I used to know
Same Smile, same easy, laid-back style
And man, could he kiss
Blew my mind the very first time
His lips touched mine.
You remind me
You remind me of a boy I used to like.
Same eyes, strong arms, same open mind
And man, could he dance
Arms around me, lost in a trance
I'd hear his heart
You remind me
I'm scared of you
How did you find me?
Turn and walk away
'Cause you remind me
You remind me of a boy I used to love
Same laughter and tears, shared through the years
And man, how he felt
Made my bones more than melt
He touched my soul.
You remind me
I'm scared of you
How did you find me?
Turn and walk away
'Cause you remind me
Tag: memory similarities song-writing
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