Memories Quotes
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At eighteen you don't think about memories, you tell them.
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The best memorizers in the world - who almost all hail from Europe - can memorize a pack of cards in less than a minute. A few have begun to approach the 30-second mark, considered the 'four-minute mile of memory.'
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You know what my earliest memories are? Going from one burlesque town to another. My father was in burlesque.
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My memories pale as I prevail upon them again and again. They become more and more ghostly. I fear nothing so much as losing them altogether and having only my blank endless mind to live in.
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My previous visits to Australia created fantastic memories, so I'm definitely looking forward to another visit. It is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. I think every person in the entire country is nice. Seriously, I haven't seen or heard of a mean person yet. And they love country music.
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Photography is linked with death in many different ways. The most immediate and explicit is the social practice of keeping photographs in memory of loved beings who are no longer alive. But there is another real death which each of us undergoes every day, as each day we draw nearer to our own death. Even when the person photographed is still living, that moment when she or he was has forever vanished.
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Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.
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Too many memories, each one sharper and more painful than the last.
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The pen will never be able to move fast enough to write down every word discovered in the space of memory. Some things have been lost forever, other things will perhaps be remembered again, and still other things have been lost and found and lost again. There is no way to be sure of any this.
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Always have old memories, and young hopes.
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I believe the true function of age is memory. I'm recording as fast as I can.
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Always carry a notebook. And I mean always. The short-term memory only retains information for three minutes; unless it is committed to paper you can lose an idea for ever.
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No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.
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One of my strongest memories is my father playing bongos in the living room in Detroit listening to Motown radio. He was this skinny white bald guy, but he was really moved by blues and Motown and funk.
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I want to believe that memories, even sad and painful ones, should not be forgotten forever.
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Our memories are the keys to our past and everything we've ever worked for, fought for, and dreamed of.
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There are more similarities than differences when it comes to preparation of a performance. You're using some lyrics, you have a relationship with them, they apply to different parts of your life and different circumstances, different memories, different stories you have in your head. You form personal relationships with the song. I think that's very similar, in a way, to prepping a character. You pour your own personality, in a sense, into the character, you sympathize with a character in a way that's similar to the way you might sympathize with a song.
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Some memories are made up of sunlight, they shine until they lose their glow. Yeah, but you were made of first times, the good kind with the goodbye that still won’t let me go. No, it still won’t let me go…
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Football became my life at five or six. The earliest memory I have is of playing in my first boots, a pair of black and white Alan Balls. It was 1970, four years after the World Cup, and I scored three goals at school.
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The world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that's always been there, and the next minute it's just a memory.
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Coming here makes all of us 13 or 14 years old again. It brings back all those memories.
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I have lots of favourite memories but I can't say that I have a favourite film.
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When I went to shows with my friends, it was all about the experience with my friends. If I met the band, it was cool. But it was more about talking about the memories of the show with my friends.
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Whiles in the early Winter eve We pass amid the gathering night Some homestead that we had to leave Years past; and see its candles bright Shine in the room beside the door Where we were merry years agone But now must never enter more, As still the dark road drives us on. E'en so the world of men may turn At even of some hurried day And see the ancient glimmer burn Across the waste that hath no way; Then with that faint light in its eyes A while I bid it linger near And nurse in wavering memories The bitter-sweet of days that were.
