Anything one is remembering is a repetition, but existing as a human being that is being, listening, and hearing is never repetition.

Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

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

The true art of memory is the art of attention.

I have a terrible memory; I never forget a thing.

We are able to find everything in our memory, which is like a dispensary or chemical laboratory in which chance steers our hand sometimes to a soothing drug and sometimes to a dangerous poison.

I think heaven will not be as good as earth, unless it bring with it that sweet power to remember, which is the staple of heaven here.

Memories are hunting horns
whose noise dies away in the wind.

The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy, and temperamental: it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chawing a hunk of melon in the dust.

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

One form of loneliness is to have a memory and no one to share it with.

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

Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth but not its twin.