It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, read more

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment -- but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?

If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my
mouth; if I prefer read more

If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my
mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching read more

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.

Our memory is like a shop in the window of which is exposed now one, now another photograph of the read more

Our memory is like a shop in the window of which is exposed now one, now another photograph of the same person. And as a rule the most recent exhibit remains for some time the only one to be seen.

Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot read more

Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.
[Lat., Vita enim mortuorum in memoria read more

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.
[Lat., Vita enim mortuorum in memoria vivorum est posita.]

Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet read more

Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not good enough to recollect how often we have told it to the same person?

A moment lasts all of a second, but the memory lives on forever.

A moment lasts all of a second, but the memory lives on forever.

Every man's memory is his private literature.

Every man's memory is his private literature.