I said: I must remember this, being small.
Memory is the power to revive again in our minds those ideas which after imprinting have disappeared, or have been laid aside out of sight.
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.
I just have pretty good recall of information.
I'm like a goldfish. My memory is terrible.
After the age of 80, everything reminds you of something else.
Memory is the best of all gardens. Therein, winter and summer, the seeds of their past lie dormant, ready to spring into instant bloom at any moment the mind wishes to bring them to life.
Memory is like plaster: peel it back and you just might find a completely different picture.
The retrospective glance is a relatively easy gesture for us to make.
Once I'd reached the point where I could squirrel away more than 30 digits a minute in memory palaces, I still only sporadically used the techniques to memorize the phone numbers of people I actually wanted to call. I found it was just too simple to punch them into my cell phone.
Memory is funny. Once you hit a vein the problem is not how to remember but how to control the flow.
When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened or not.
Memory is a magnet. It will pull to it and hold only material nature has designed it to attract.
The memory represents to us not what we choose but what it pleases.
Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes... Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
I don't know if I have a technique. I'm just trying to remember the words.
My memories of events and games are fragmented.
How strange are the tricks of memory, which, often hazy as a dream about the most important events of a man's life, religiously preserve the merest trifles.
Often, even after years, mental states once present in consciousness return to it with apparent spontaneity and without any act of the will; that is, they are reproduced involuntarily.
I am terrible at memorizing things. Hence, ad-libbing.
I was trying to figure out what a memory feels like.
If you were to ask me to pick my favourite author, well, there are so many of them, I'd really just have to say the first names that came to mind, and I'm sure that I'll later think 'Oh, I should have mentioned that one.'
I know this music from memory, not from the music.
Where does a thought go when it's forgotten?
If it's hard to remember, it'll be difficult to forget.
