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?
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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.
Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things.
[Lat., Memoria est thesaurus omnium rerum e custos.]
Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things.
[Lat., Memoria est thesaurus omnium rerum e custos.]
A great many complimentary things have been said about the
faculty of memory, and if you look in a read more
A great many complimentary things have been said about the
faculty of memory, and if you look in a good quotation book you
will find them neatly arranged.
Memory [is] like a purse,--if it be over-full that it cannot
shut, all will drop out of it. Take read more
Memory [is] like a purse,--if it be over-full that it cannot
shut, all will drop out of it. Take heed of a gluttonous
curiosity to feed on many things, lest the greediness of the
appetite of thy memory spoil the digestion thereof.
I've never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don't understand people read more
I've never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don't understand people who hide from their past. Everything you live through helps to make you the person you are now.
The memory represents to us not what we choose but what it pleases.
The memory represents to us not what we choose but what it pleases.
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my read more
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, read more
The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And all that thou hast done for me!
Memory is not wisdom; idiots can by rote repeat volumes. Yet what is wisdom without memory?
Memory is not wisdom; idiots can by rote repeat volumes. Yet what is wisdom without memory?
