Let me put it this way, the earliest memory I have of my dad, I think I got beat up by some kids and he looked at me and said, 'hey, you get in a fight, you win. I don't care if you have to pick up a...

I envy those Hindus and Buddhists who have in their religion philosophy and ancestor worship which build in the believer a continuity with the past, and that most important ingredient in the building...

Flashbacks rarely involve language. Mine certainly didn't. They were visual, motor, and sensory, and they took place in a relentless, horrifying present.

'Empire of the Sun' is one of the films that I often think about. I think it had a profound effect on me when I first watched it as a teenager.

It's sad that we have to sell our training gear, things we get in fights that are a good memory of what we had there, but we'll get new stuff later.

As a kid, we would drive up and down 77 North - that's our highway - there would be office buildings on the side of the highway and I'd be like, that's what my house is going to look like when I get...

And we forget because we must and not because we will.

It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.

For an actress to be a success, she must have the face of a Venus, the brains of a Minerva, the grace of Terpsichore, the memory of a Macaulay, the figure of Juno, and the hide of a rhinoceros.

There is something sad about clothes laid in a tomb of trunks.

I really cherish the memories I have of my trips. For some reason, when you travel, it's like your mind picks up on the fact that this is something uncharacteristic, so it tunes in more acutely and...

Whenever I think of my birthplace, Walton-on-Thames, my reference first and foremost is the river. I love the smell of the river; love its history, its gentleness. I was aware of its presence from my...

At the age of 12 I won the school prize for Best English Essay. The prize was a copy of Somerset Maugham's 'Introduction To Modern English And American Literature.' To this day I keep it on the shelf...

It isn't so astonishing the number of things that I can remember as the number of things I can remember that aren't so.

Even in death she was more beautiful to him than she ever was alive.

Give full attention to life's moments and the images you capture will be everlasting.

Grandma Hutto's flower garden was a bright patchwork quilt thrown down inside the pickets.

I wiped my hands on my apron and went to the window. Outside, the prairie reached out and touched the places where the sky came down. Though the winter was nearly over, there were patches of snow and...

His ghost comes back to be remembered. If he can't be in this life, he procures a way to stay in orbit, and in that way, is never forgotten.

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...

Folks double my age and older often run down a conversation tracking a vanishing world that will, with the passing of their memory, vanish entirely.

I remember a new heaviness in my body, but maybe that's the work of time and my looking back.

I'll try to be around and about. But if I'm not, then you know that I'm behind your eyelids, and I'll meet you there

We all have our safe places, where none are invited. They are lonely rooms full of the musk of memory. Sanctuary rather than adventure.

Whenever we look at a photograph, the memories in the photograph become our memories as well!

Remembering our loved ones is breathing life into their fading images, that we might once more see their faces and pass along a tearful I miss you.

He stopped his act to take a snapshot of that instant he would so treasure - her delightful laughter that could make him do anything, anything at all, in the world and beyond!

They had stolen my memories from me! Nobody had that right. Nobody! My memories belonged to me. Stealing memories was stealing time. I got so mad, I lost all fear. I didn't care what happened. I want...

Memories are powerful that way. They can bring back to another place and time and make them laugh or cry all over again.

I want to remember warming your two a.m. bottle, clipping your locks, watching you be baptized, bathing you in the big porcelain sink… how I often laid you against my chest and felt the cradlesong...