We forget our pleasures, we remember our sufferings.

Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title.

Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.

Cooking certain dishes, like roast pork, reminds me of my mother.

It’s still scary every time I go back to the past. Each morning, my heart catches. When I get there, I remember how the light was, where the draft was coming from, what odors were in the air. When I write, I get all the weeping out.

I like to reminisce with people I don’t know.

Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.

A man always remembers his first love with special tenderness, but after that he begins to bunch them.

If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.

Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories.

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.

I remember the first time I had sex – I kept the receipt.

I didn’t go to school for a full year until I was 12. In the summer I was a wild child in the woods, with no shoes, and in the fall it was back to the city, shoe shops and school.

Orthodoxy is the diehard of the world of thought. It learns not, neither can it forget.

Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.

Christmas is the perfect time to celebrate the love of God and family and to create memories that will last forever. Jesus is God’s perfect, indescribable gift. The amazing thing is that not only are we able to receive this gift, but we are able to share it with others on Christmas and every other day of the year.

In this bright future you can’t forget your past.

I never saw any of my dad’s stories. My mother said he had piles and piles of manuscripts.

I remember coming to New York in 1974 to do a play here called ‚Equis.‘ And I remember the first morning getting up and walking around the streets, and I thought, ‚I’m home.‘ I felt really at peace here.

I still close my eyes and go home – I can always draw from that.

To me, my house is always recreating what I lost in youth.

My personal telephone book is a book of the dead now. I’m so old. Almost all of my friends have died, and I don’t have the guts to take their names out of the book.

The nice thing is that when people come up to me, it’s the football they remember, not all the other rubbish.

When I write about a 15-year old, I jump, I return to the days when I was that age. It’s like a time machine. I can remember everything. I can feel the wind. I can smell the air. Very actually. Very vividly.

I love tango, and I used to dance when I was young.

What money is better bestowed than that of a schoolboy’s tip? How the kindness is recalled by the recipient in after days! It blesses him that gives and him that takes.

The greatest pleasures are only narrowly separated from disgust.

We will always remember. We will always be proud. We will always be prepared, so we will always be free.

I left Mainz after 18 years and thought, ‚Next time, I will work with a little less of my heart.‘ I said that because we all cried for a week. The city gave us a goodbye party, and it lasted a week.

I still have my unemployment books and I remember when I worked for the sanitation department and the post office.

I don’t dislike any of my exes. If I took time to form a relationship, it’s gonna hurt when we move on, but are you puttin‘ White-Out over all that beautiful time together? That was real time in your life. It’s connected to where you are today.

My mum passing away wasn’t funny, but that funeral and what I went through, the things that happened, looking back at it, there were funny moments. You have to be strong enough to look back at it, to sit and assess the situation.

I was adored once too.

When I was younger we had a grape arbor, and my mom would go out and pick grapes and make grape jam in the sink – boil it, put it in jars, and give it away as gifts.

Memories are thoughts that arise. They’re not realities. Only when you believe that they are real, then they have the power over you. But when you realize it’s just another thought arising about the past, then you can have a spacious relationship with that thought. The thought no longer has you in its grip.

So long as the memory of certain beloved friends lives in my heart, I shall say that life is good.

That great Cathedral space which was childhood.

When I was 8 years old, it mattered what my favorite singer said and wore and expressed opinions about.

Music was an experience, intimately married to your life. You could pay to hear music, but after you did, it was over, gone – a memory.

Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.

I think the brain is essentially a computer and consciousness is like a computer program. It will cease to run when the computer is turned off. Theoretically, it could be re-created on a neural network, but that would be very difficult, as it would require all one’s memories.

Many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased.

Whatever the reasons may be, I was very much affected by events of the 1930s – the Spanish Civil War, for example, though I was barely literate.

In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield.

I remember my mother’s prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life.

The things hardest to bear are sweetest to remember.

When I was a boy we didn’t wake up with Vietnam and have Cyprus for lunch and the Congo for dinner.

Our moments of inspiration are not lost though we have no particular poem to show for them; for those experiences have left an indelible impression, and we are ever and anon reminded of them.

I can’t remember what made my dad take us karting for the first time, I can’t remember really. I was into motorsport by then and I knew everything, and every driver, it was around 2009, 2008. That’s when I first properly knew about Formula One. Those were the days.

In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Some people seem to fade away but then when they are truly gone, it’s like they didn’t fade away at all.

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined – to strengthen each other – to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.

My childhood was endless – from eight to 18 felt like hundreds of years.

In fact, you couldn’t give me anything to make me go back to being a teenager. Never. No, I hated it.

When they set off for their first day at their new school, I will never forget that winter morning as I watched our girls, just 7 and 10 years old, pile into those black SUVs with all those big men with guns.

My relationship with the mountains actually started when I was 16. Every year, a group used to be taken from Auckland Grammar down to the Tangariro National Park for a skiing holiday.

I’m from the generation that had the boys‘ door and the girls‘ door when you went to school, and you got in big trouble if you went in the wrong one.

When trying to remember my share in the glow of the eternal present, in the smile of God, I return to my childhood, too, for that is where the most significant discoveries turn up.

Some of my foster families used to send me to the movies to get me out of the house and there I’d sit all day and way into the night. Up in front, there with the screen so big, a little kid all alone, and I loved it. I loved anything that moved up there and I didn’t miss anything that happened and there was no popcorn either.

Your feelings so are important to write down, to capture, and to remember because today you’re heartbroken, but tomorrow you’ll be in love again.

Never throughout history has a man who lived a life of ease left a name worth remembering.