Who knows what true loneliness is - not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion.
My earliest memory was going to my grandma's house, milking the cows, and collecting the eggs from the chickens.
My roots have never left me... because the very first memory I have is my mom singing and me singing with her.
My entire learning process is slow, because I have no visual memory.
Although computer memory is no longer expensive, there's always a finite size buffer somewhere. When a big piece of news arrives, everybody sends a message to everybody else, and the buffer fills.
My mother, who died aged 82, had Alzheimer's. Losing your memory is bad enough, but everything shuts down. You can't remember how to eat or go to the toilet. It's a terrible disease and so distressing to watch it take over someone you love.
Martin Luther King Jr. is remembered as our prince of peace, of civil rights. We owe him something major that will keep his memory alive.
Memory is quite central for me. Part of it is that I like the actual texture of writing through memory.
Bereavement is terrible, of course. And when somebody you love dies, it's a time for reflection, a time for memory, a time for regret.
We only labor to stuff the memory, and leave the conscience and the understanding unfurnished and void.
We as Americans and as humans have very selective hearing and very selective memory. We only hear what we want to hear and disregard the rest.
All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.
Men act like brutes in so far as the sequences of their perceptions arise through the principle of memory only, like those empirical physicians who have mere practice without theory.
My favorite memory from school was going to football games with my friends. We always had so much spirit and dressed up to go to the games, even though our team was pretty bad.
The two offices of memory are collection and distribution.
I have an unusual type of thinking. I have no visual memory whatsoever. Everything is conceptual to me.
The memory of that scene for me is like a frame of film forever frozen at that moment: the red carpet, the green lawn, the white house, the leaden sky. The new president and his first lady.
I've never really been anywhere, and now I get to go everywhere. I just have to make sure there's enough memory on my computer to hold all my pictures.
It's like your children talking about holidays, you find they have a quite different memory of it from you. Perhaps everything is not how it is, but how it's remembered.
Studies of social games, puzzle games, and brain-training games have shown they have little effect on the brain despite often being marketed as improving memory and reaction speeds.
Pale ink is better than the most retentive memory.
Memory works according to meaning, and when something is important to you, the Google in your brain brings it forward all of a sudden.
Curiosity is as much the parent of attention, as attention is of memory.
I barely remembered my father; I'm confused between genuine memory and the few photographs that survived.
They're very strong in memory. Didn't do very much in microprocessors or digital signal processing.
Memory is deceptive because it is colored by today's events.
People have no memory of phone numbers now because of the cell phone - their address book is in a cell phone.
When the doctors showed me an X-ray of my brain, they pointed to a black hole on the upper left side and told me that all memory from that spot was dead. I thought to myself that I hoped that's where I kept 'The Orange Blossom Special.'
I've been to too many Dead concerts. There've been smokin' holes where my memory used to be.
Indeed, as the above calculation indicates, to take full advantage of the memory space available, the ultimate laptop must turn all its matter into energy.
The memory is like a cat scratching my heart.
The 2013 Boston Marathon was, for me, a milestone. A bucket list event that was supposed to be my last marathon until my next big milestone, turning 50. But I couldn't leave marathoning on a memory like that, so I am running this year to honor everyone in the running community and those unsung heroes from April 15, 2013.
There is not any memory with less satisfaction than the memory of some temptation we resisted.
Learning to read music in Braille and play by ear helped me develop a damn good memory.
Meanwhile the fact that the connection with the activity of memory in ordinary life is for the moment lost is of less importance than the reverse, namely, that this connection with the complications and fluctuations of life is necessarily still a too close one.
So long as the memory of certain beloved friends lives in my heart, I shall say that life is good.
