Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things read more

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee.

The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones read more

The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant.

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?

Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe, and learn; take a look around you whenever you have time read more

Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe, and learn; take a look around you whenever you have time and never forget everything and every person that has the least place within your heart.

The true art of memory is the art of attention.

The true art of memory is the art of attention.

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.]

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.

Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.

Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.

But each day brings its petty dust our soon-choked souls to fill, and we forget because we must, and not read more

But each day brings its petty dust our soon-choked souls to fill, and we forget because we must, and not because we will.