Dickens writes that an event, "began to be forgotten, as most affairs are, when wonder, having no fresh food to support it, dies away of itself.

The best date I’ve ever been on was March 5th, 1982, the year I was born. For as long as I live, I’ll never forget that date.


Hide things everywhere. Forget about them. Find them randomly and feel surprised like a pirate finding buried treasure. Avoid scurvy. Love more.

I keep a diary in order to enter the wonderful secrets of my life. If I didn't write them down, I should not probably forget all about them.

One of my friends at the Compound has a photographic memory. Everything she ever sees, reads, or hears, she remembers forever in perfect detail.

...but the loss of a memory, like the omission of a phrase during reading, rather than making for uncertainty, can lead to a premature certainty.

But maybe that's what the dead do. They stay. They linger. Benign and sweet and painful. They don't need us. They echo all by themselves.

I looked up from my paper and tried to remember her name. I was drawing a blank. That’s what happens when I doodle in invisible ink.


Footfalls echo in the memorydown the passage we did not taketowards the door we never openedinto the rose garden. My words echothus, in your mind

There are things that can be forgotten. And things that cannot - that sit on dusty shelves like stuffed birds with baleful, sideways staring eyes.

These were the moments that would stick in her memory for years to come, those instants of perfect bliss that nothing else would ever match again.

You know some minutes warn you they're going to be mighty short and you'd better take a snapshot of 'em while you can. ("Golden Baby")

Different people remember things differently, and you'll not get any two people to remember anything the same, whether they were there or not.

This is the worst of our ways of remembering--this tendency to prod the crust of anecdote in the hope of releasing a gush of piping-hot symbolism.

I breathed in the memory of his lips, the softness of them, and how they felt tracing across my skin, leaving ripples of goosebumps in their wake.