I’ve a grand memory for forgetting.

What is the worth of human life, unless it is woven into the life of our ancestors by the records of history?

To endeavor to forget anyone is a certain way of thinking of nothing else.

Some memories are like lucky charms, talismans, one shouldn’t tell about them or they’ll lose their power.

People are trapped in history, and history is trapped in them.

Memories are like corks left out of bottles. They swell. They no longer fit.

A monument is money wasted. My memory will live on if my life has deserved it.

Reminiscences make one feel so deliciously aged and sad.

Time robs us of all, even of memory.

He who is afraid of his own memories is cowardly, really cowardly.

Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.

Someone will remember us
I say
even in another time.

Everyone complains about his memory, and no one complains about his judgment.