Forgotten Experiences Quotes

Oblivion is the dark page, whereon Memory writes her light-beam characters, and makes them legible; were it all light, nothing could be read there, any more than if it were all darkness.

Diverse forms of memory can have a variety of gaps. Thus it is possible for me to represent a past situation to myself and be unable to remember my inner behavior in this situation. As I transfer myself back into this situation, a surrogate for the missing memory comes into focus.

Do you remember your childhood? I am always coming across these marvelous accounts by writers who declare that they remember 'everything.' I certainly don't. The dark stretches, the blanks, are much bigger than the bright glimpses. I seem to have spent most of my time like a plant in a cupboard.

Our lives disappear, even as we live them.

There are years from my childhood that I cannot remember and I cannot forget.

So much of the past in encapsulated in the odds and ends. Most of us discard more information about ourselves than we ever care to preserve. Our recollection of the past is not simply distorted by our faulty perception of events remembered but skewed by those forgotten. The memory is like twin orbiting stars, one visible, one dark, the trajectory of what's evident forever affected by the gravity of what's concealed.

I haven't seen most of what I've done. I can't even list them. Most television jobs. I haven't seen a lot.

I've never understood why people consider youth a time of freedom and joy. It's probably because they have forgotten their own.

These people you used to see every day, friends or acquaintances, after a while they become as distant as any stranger, people you suddenly recall late at night--you remember something they said or something silly that someone once did. For a few moments they completely occupy your mind; then you forget them again.

Our inability to recall how we really felt is why our wealth of experiences turns out to be poverty of riches.

Did you ever think about all of the nights you lived through and can't remember The ones that were so mundane your brain just didn't bother to record them. Hundreds, maybe thousands of nights come and go without being preserved by our memory. Does that ever freak you out? Like maybe your mind recorded all of the wrong nights?

I don't remember anything about Ekta and Tusshar's growing years. I don't remember playing with them, being with them, attending their school functions.

Your past is always your past. Even if you forget it, it remembers you.

He had the feeling that everything he saw was a broken-off piece of some giant blank thing that he had forgotten had happened to him.

Why do some memories bleed out of nowhere and others stay locked behind doors?

We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.

Time never bears such moments on his wing as when he flies too swiftly to be marked.

And you read your emily dickinson, And I my robert frost. And we note our place with bookmarkers That measure what weve lost.

When it comes to memories of that iconic type, memories that are burned into you, I have maybe ten or so from my childhood. I'm a bad rememberer of situations. I forget almost everything as soon as it happens.

What a host of little incidents, all deep-buried in the past -- problems that had once been urgent, arguments that had once been keen, anecdotes that were funny only because one remembered the fun. Did any emotion really matter when the last trace of it had vanished from human memory; and if that were so, what a crowd of emotions clung to him as to their last home before annihilation? He must be kind to them, must treasure them in his mind before their long sleep.

What did you do with memories, feelings, needs, that didn’t belong anywhere?

Most adults have forgotten what they had to do to survive childhood.

You carry your past with you even if you don't remember any of it.

We cannot even recollect the actions of our infancy, our childhood is like something written on a slate and rubbed off.