Memory Sharing Quotes

My mother always said that everyone should be required to write an autobiography of their lives.

Ryan is my bridge to the past, to memories that lose some of their sting when he recounts them.

New Orleans is not in the grip of a neurosis of a denied past; it passes out memories generously like a great lord; it doesn't have to pursue "the real thing."

I don't like hawking 'round other people's memories. That wasn't part of the deal when I was born.

I have no memories I'm prepared to share with you.

They were very short, the golden years. The golden years are when you can sit back, hopefully, and exchange memories. And that's the worst part about this disease. There's nobody to exchange memories with.

Everything runs its course. We had told a lot of stories that happened in our life. My kid was getting older, and we were running out of stories to tell.

This is the real and the only reason for friendship: to provide a mirror so the other person can contemplate his image from the past, which, without the eternal blah-blah of memories between pals, would long ago have disappeared.

In the future, the Internet might become a 'brain net' where we send memories, feelings and sensations.

I don't get too much enjoyment out of sitting around the campfire and looking at old photos. That's just not me. I don't get the thrill of doing that. So, I don't sit around listening to my old records.

'Halo' I wrote with my grandpa in his nursing home. When I went to visit him, he'd often comment on my halo. But of course, I couldn't see. And he always - he had pictures of Jesus with these beautiful halos. And so I asked him if he'd write a song with me about Jesus' halo.

Memories shift like loose snow in a wind, or are a chorale of ghosts all talking over one another. There is only ever a sense that what is real to me is not real to others, and to share a memory with someone is to risk sullying my belief in what has truly happened.

You both passed out,” Percy said. “I don’t know why, but Ella told me not to worry about it. She said you were…sharing?” “Sharing,” Ella agreed. She crouched in the stern, preening her wing feathers with her teeth, which didn’t look like a very effective form of personal hygiene. She spit out some red fluff. “Sharing is good. No more blackouts. Biggest American blackout, August 14, 2003. Hazel shared. No more blackouts.” Percy scratched his head. “Yeah…we’ve been having conversations like that all night. I still don’t know what she’s talking about.

Memories are just stories we tell ourselves about our past; and that's often why they don't match when we've shared the same experiences with someone.

The story is one that you and I will construct together in your memory. If the story means anything to you at all, then when you remember it afterward, think of it, not as something I created, but rather as something that we made together.

When anybody starts out with a memoir, you get the impulse to tell your own story with your own voice, and you get all that out in one fell swoop sometimes.

My grandmother was not a great storyteller.

Some of the things I have written about are a way of connecting with my father - I know he knew who Idi Amin was, and I know he knew who Longford was. And I know he knew who Nixon was, because shortly before he died, I talked to him about Watergate.

I've reached the age where anyone who lets me talk seems like an old By listening to my memories, you have become part of them.

I think it would be interesting if old people got anti-Alzheimer's disease where they slowly began to recover other people's lost memories.

The sea can bind us to her many moods, whispering to us by the subtle token of a shadow or a gleam upon the waves, and hinting in these ways of her mournfulness or rejoicing. Always she is remembering old things, and these memories, though we may not grasp them, are imparted to us, so that we share her gaiety or remorse.

This was really the way my whole road experience began, and the things that were to come are too fantastic not to tell.

Memories come out only when you spend time with a person.

Memories aren't stored in the heart or the head or even the soul, if you ask me, but in the spaces between any given two people.

It's not completely inconceivable that someday you'll be able to download your own memories.