Lapham’s Quarterly

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

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

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.

Memory is the only
afterlife I can understand.

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

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.

Pictures made in childhood are painted in bright hues.

Reminiscences make one feel so deliciously aged and sad.

Time robs us of all, even of memory.

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