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The secret of a good memory is attention, and attention to a subject depends upon our interest in it. We read more
The secret of a good memory is attention, and attention to a subject depends upon our interest in it. We rarely forget that which has made a deep impression on our minds.
Unless we remember we cannot understand.
Unless we remember we cannot understand.
A man of great memory without learning hath a rock and a spindle and no staff to spin.
A man of great memory without learning hath a rock and a spindle and no staff to spin.
Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands,
And many friends I've met;
Not one fair scene or read more
Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands,
And many friends I've met;
Not one fair scene or kindly smile
Can this fond heart forget.
Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
read more
Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
And God within far Heaven refuse to light
The consolation of the dawn for me,--
Between the shadowy burns of Heaven and Hell,
It is enough love leaves my soul to dwell
With memory.
Remembrances embellish life but forgetfulness alone makes it
possible.
[Fr., Les souvenirs embellissent la vie, l'oubli seul la read more
Remembrances embellish life but forgetfulness alone makes it
possible.
[Fr., Les souvenirs embellissent la vie, l'oubli seul la rend
possible.]
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.
Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never read more
Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.
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?