On the rare occasions when I spend a night in Oxford, the keeping of the hours by the clock towers in New College, and Merton, and the great booming of Tom tolling 101 times at 9 pm at Christ Church are inextricably interwoven with memories and regrets and lost joys. The sound almost sends me mad, so intense are the feelings it evokes.
I want to be known as A.J. Styles, the WWE Superstar that he is, and have amazing matches, make memories – I think that’s the goal.
Those who have known the famous are publicly debriefed of their memories, knowing as their own dusk falls that they will only be remembered for remembering someone else.
The most beautiful things are not associated with money they are memories and moments. If you don’t celebrate those, they can pass you by.
I acknowledge the privilege of being alive in a human body at this moment, endowed with senses, memories, emotions, thoughts, and the space of mind in its wisdom aspect.
The South is full of memories and ghosts of the past. For me, it is the most inspiring place to write, from William Faulkner’s haunted antebellum home to the banks of the Mississippi to the wind that whispers through the cotton fields.
Passione’ is a selection of the music moments that have accompanied my youth a collection of cherished memories, of moments, of fleeting emotions, of sleepless nights.
Nostalgia, the vice of the aged. We watch so many old movies our memories come in monochrome.
I read ‘Game Change.’ If you want to relive the campaign, that book is unbelievable. It’s great. It’s the book of that campaign. It brought all the memories back of everything with Clinton and Obama, and Sarah Palin and McCain, and choosing her, and John Edwards. It was an interesting book.
We are the first to honour the memories of those who perished through slavery, by declaring August 1 as Emancipation Day.
Usually, I come for film promotions or events, but I have so many fond memories of Delhi.
My childhood was great, honestly. I have all these incredible memories of my childhood. I was an only child. I always had all my cousins around. I had my grandparents around. I had my parents around. I had my uncles around – whatever.
Those fields of daisies we landed on, and dusty fields and desert stretches. Memories of many skies and earths beneath us – many days, many nights of stars.
Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false namings of real events.
I think the reason I’m a writer is because first, I was a reader. I loved to read. I read a lot of adventure stories and mystery books, and I have wonderful memories of my mom reading picture books aloud to me. I learned that words are powerful.
My earliest memories of horror are ‘Friday the 13th Part 2,’ John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing,’ ‘Halloween,’ ‘An American Werewolf in London,’ and ‘A Nightmare On Elm Street’… and ‘Hatchet’ is so obviously inspired by those films that I may as well have made it in 1984.
I really believe it’s not bad to look back within music. I don’t mean retro, but using your own memories to make a song because our memories are what make us who we are.
The loneliness is when you pick up and move, even if you are not originally from that place, and you have some memories that you want to embrace. Having a life in transit, I feel like you are always looking out the back window.
Since my brother died in 1982, my parents and I had formed a shaky tripod of a family now that I’d lost my father too, it was too easy for me to glimpse a future point where I alone was the keeper of not just my own childhood memories, but of my family lore.
I miss my Dad. My Dad loved cheesy monster movies, so we’d have Godzilla movie marathons. Those are some of my favorite memories, laughing at how the monster outfits were so bad, like black garbage bags for heads.
My great frustration is that, more and more, my memories come and go, and friends all my life are not recognized. Many of the things I say and do, I can no longer remember even right afterwards.
I spent loads of time in Scotland as a kid. My dad would take us back up to Aberdeen loads, and I have very fond memories of getting chips from his favourite chippy and heading down to the beach to eat Baskin Robbins ice cream.
Lost in Space brings back a lot of memories for people, and I think that any time you’re involved in something that has such a long-lasting appeal, you feel very blessed by that.
I am kind of a private person, so I don’t miss that part of show business at all. Looking back on my career in television and making a movie like ‘The Sound of Music’ from an adult point of view, it actually seems kind of unreal. I was involved in shows that people grew up with – that hold memories for them – and it’s a cool feeling.
Growing up in Poland, I didn’t have the experience of going to Disneyland as a child, so I don’t have any childhood memories connected to it, good or bad.
If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts.
I have great, fond memories of Canada. I feel that one day my bones will more than likely end up there.
I’ve been very fortunate in the things I’ve had in my life. But, at the same time, I wish I had the same types of memories as everyone else.
Dark Side of the Moon’ was one of my father’s favorite records, which I obviously didn’t understand when I was young. To be honest, I don’t really have too many memories of hearing it, but I definitely have memories of the cover.
One of my earliest memories is walking up a muddy road into the mountains. It was raining. Behind me, my village was burning. When there was school, it was under a tree. Then the United Nations came. They fed me, my family, my community.
Every time I am looking into the depths of somebody’s brain, I’m thinking, ‘This is what makes a person who they are. That structure contains memories. Everything that they’ve ever experienced is right in there.’
The heart of marriage is memories and if the two of you happen to have the same ones and can savor your reruns, then your marriage is a gift from the gods.
Since I got into the movies, ‘Running Scared,’ that did $40 million. ‘Princess Bride,’ I got good reviews for the character Miracle Max. ‘Memories of Me’ didn’t do well. ‘Throw Mama from the Train’ did $70 million. ‘Harry and Sally’ did 95 or 96. ‘City Slickers’ did $120 million.
I’m so lucky because I get to have all of these memories. I can have all of those pictures and different sorts of films and stuff. Some people have only one photo, and I’m really glad that I have all of that.
Scents evoke very, very powerful memories, whether it’s the scent of someone that you know and someone that you love, or if it’s a meal that your mother made.
People have told me, ‘My dad passed on, but I have great memories of watching your shows with him.’ It doesn’t get any better than that.
Minor sports in the community is fun and recreation for everyone, not just the elite. I think back to my days in minor hockey and those are my fondest memories, having fun.
It’s sad to know I’m done. But looking back, I’ve got a lot of great memories.
Cakes are special. Every birthday, every celebration ends with something sweet, a cake, and people remember. It’s all about the memories.
Well, the memories were obviously – every match is important, every point counts, especially the last sort of 18, 20 years when the matches have been so tight.
My dad was a professional track racer. It’s in my genes, and my first memories as a baby were in a velodrome.
I’ve always seen myself as one of those ‘show people.’ My earliest memories are wanting and needing to entertain people, like a gypsy traveler who goes from place to place, city to city, performing for audiences and reaching people.
All my memories of being in Las Vegas with Bobby were great. Frank Sinatra brought us to the Sands Hotel in 1965. When we worked that lounge, it was a great lounge. I think it was bigger than the showroom. We were two 25-year-old dumb kids from Orange County in Las Vegas with The Rat Pack.
I hate to date myself, but my earliest memories are Flash Gordon. I would love playing Flash Gordon in the neighborhood.
I was born illegitimately and almost immediately, as I understand it, placed in an orphanage. So my very earliest memories were in an orphanage. It was the tag end of the Great Depression when I was born. People were desperately poor.
I’m about to turn 60, and most of my memories reside in the brain of my wife.
Cinema builds memories great films continue to exist in the spectator’s mind. We are naturally capable of and prone to nostalgia. A spectator will reconstruct a film he or she has seen, years later, and may even change their original opinion. One critic, for example, once gave the finger to one of my films later he wrote me to apologize.
I always remember my childhood house with happy memories. There was a beautiful garden, and outside my bedroom window was a jasmine vine which would open in the evenings, giving off a divine scent.
There are vivid memories from my childhood – what we had to go through because of low wages and the conditions, basically because there was no union. I suppose, if I wanted to be fair, I could say that I’m trying to settle a personal score. I could dramatize it by saying that I want to bring social justice to farm workers.
I like to celebrate my life. I have a life that I’m really lucky to have, and so I want to make sure every minute counts and that I go on great vacations and I share my memories with people that I love and that will make me laugh and lalalalalala.
It’s sad to see these old buildings go because they have so many memories, and it’s a real personal kind of thing when you play these places. It’s part of our history just gone.
Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.
I started writing after the death of my grandfather – memories, poems, etc. It was very personal for years I did not share my writing with anyone.
One of my most memorable Thanksgiving memories was probably the first year that me and my two brothers decided to start our annual eating contest. We ate throughout the whole day. We started that morning and weighed ourselves, and at the very end of the night, we weighed ourselves out. And all three of us equally gained five pounds.
I have a lot of great racing memories growing up in Europe as a young boy – playing with car parts on my dad’s desk, watching the races on Sunday afternoons to try and spot him on TV, even having the chance to go to Formula 1 races where he was working.
One of my early childhood memories was my grandmother always having a bowl of Nestle chocolate bars at her house. My sister and I would argue over who could eat the chocolate bars. Looking back, I don’t know why we just didn’t share. We could have split them.
You jot down ideas, memories, whatever, concerning your real life that somehow parallels the character you’re playing, and you incorporate that in your scene work.
One of my earliest memories is being inside the recording studio and I see the shadow of a figure that looks an awful lot like Walt Disney. Then the door opened and Mr. Disney walked in and said, ‘Hi Clint.’ I won’t ever forget that.
One of my earliest memories is of bashing the keyboard with my hands, my chubby little baby hands, and I remember the sound hitting my face. It became my toy.
My earliest memories as a child are listening to Beatles records, and they are a big part of how I’ve learned to write pop songs.
Indy, I have lots of great memories from there, and probably the part of me that doesn’t feel quite as longing for it is that there is still a chance that I could do it again. It’s not gone.
Doubting what you see is a very odd experience. And doubting what you remember is a little less odd than doubting what you see. But it’s also a pretty odd experience, because some memories come with a very compelling sense of truth about them, and that happens to be the case even for memories that are not true.
I love having my ghosts, and I love having my memories.
I’m 78. We’ve lost a lot of our great stars. I can’t hang out with those who aren’t here. The phone service to Heaven is so bad, you know. But I get to visit with their memories.
A sister is someone who owns part of what you own: a house, perhaps, or a less tangible legacy, like memories of your childhood and the experience of your family.
My childhood memories include a time when the government confiscated my family’s possessions and exiled us to a camp in the B.C. Interior, just because my grandparents were from Japan.
I have such fond memories of watching ‘Doctor Who’ when I was a kid and growing up, that if I’ve left anybody anywhere with memories as fond, then I feel like I’ve done my job.
I don’t think I have ever done anything for this age of children before, a pre-school audience. Generally speaking, we don’t have vivid memories of that age and what influenced us, yet clearly they are hugely formative years and it’s really important that we can create television of a high quality for that audience.
Your brain forms roughly 10,000 new cells every day, but unless they hook up to preexisting cells with strong memories, they die. Serves them right.
I was very inspired by my mother. She was a vocal teacher and sang in a band, and my first memories of her were going out with her on the local circuit.
When I was little, we had a Golden Book that had all these Disney characters in one portrait on the first page. My dad used to read from it every night. We’d play this game of find Pluto or find Donald Duck. He’d read us stories and do all the voices. Those are great memories.
My memories are of my dad taking me to football on Saturday mornings, and my mum taking me swimming. Those are the things I remember from my childhood, not sitting around the table debating capitalism and the profit squeeze.
If you don’t have your experiences in the moment, if you gloss them over with jokes or zoom past them, you end up with curiously dispassionate memories.
I don’t really collect anything. I grew up in a family that collected things, and then they’d get sick, and people die, and then they have their basements full of stuff that goes from one box to the next, so I try not to get sentimental with stuff. I just try to collect memories I guess that would be it.
All relationships change the brain – but most important are the intimate bonds that foster or fail us, altering the delicate circuits that shape memories, emotions and that ultimate souvenir, the self.
Memories are like mercury. Every time you sort of try to get near them, they slip out of your hand like a bar of soap.
Our memories are convenient lies we create, cribbing images from others’ experiences. We discard the personal specifics which don’t conform to the ideal conventional beauty created by art directors and cinematographers.
I played music and sang from my earliest memories. The first pictures of me show me wandering around with a guitar that was larger than I was, and it became almost second nature to me.
Why should I ever get fed up talking about my father? He was a brilliant, colorful man who left us with thousands of memories. Most people remember his films, but I’ve got anecdotes and advice and episodes of real life tucked away inside my head.
The individual stats, that stuff is fun, but it doesn’t last. Somebody else is gonna come along and break your records. But the memories that you take are forever.
I shot Footloose nearby, and we used to hike. Very fond memories.
They say I live a fast life. Maybe I just like a fast life. I wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. It won’t last forever, either. But the memories will.
The sparrow that is twittering on the edge of my balcony is calling up to me this moment a world of memories that reach over half my lifetime, and a world of hope that stretches farther than any flight of sparrows.
We’re not that far from being able to plant images, memories, and emotional states directly into the brain.
I know the game wasn’t a classic, but the night was about more than that-it was about bringing back the memories and raising money for former heroes who have now fallen on hard times.
There must be a little memory bank, a library or storage unit in my brain, that just tucks away memories of other people. I suck in as much of life as I can. I don’t do it deliberately – I’m just curious. Dangerously so. I collect visual and aural patterns, physical human patterns, from experience.
My first Ramones show was at a small club in Columbus, Ohio, in 1978. It was a transformative experience, even though my memories are a little blurry, since someone kicked me in the head halfway through the show, probably during ‘Beat on the Brat.’
In the egoic state, your sense of self, your identity, is derived from your thinking mind – in other words, what your mind tells you about yourself: the storyline of you, the memories, the expectations, all the thoughts that go through your head continuously and the emotions that reflect those thoughts. All those things make up your sense of self.
While writing ‘City Boy,’ I relied mainly on my own memories. In particular, I was able to describe the effect of gay liberation on an individual life (mine) as events paralleled my own growing self-acceptance in this case, the political truly was the personal.
Painting picture by picture, I followed the impressions my eye took in at heightened moments. I painted only memories, adding nothing, no details that I did not see. Hence the simplicity of the paintings, their emptiness.
Never far from my thoughts are memories of being a little girl in Queens, N.Y., our family of five crowded in a small one-bedroom apartment, struggling to learn English and survive a new life in a new country, America. We humbly and gratefully still recall the kindnesses shown by strangers and neighbors who became new friends.
Most people think that shadows follow, precede or surround beings or objects. The truth is that they also surround words, ideas, desires, deeds, impulses and memories.
I have great childhood memories cow-tipping, going off and getting lost in the bog for hours, and coming home covered in dirt.
I like books that aren’t just lovely but that have memories in themselves. Just like playing a song, picking up a book again that has memories can take you back to another place or another time.
I did have a life before the Animals, and I’m trying constantly to prove that I have a life after the Animals. People tend to forget that I was the frontman with War for two years. People sort of have compartmental memories.
I’m proud of what I achieved there, but a life built on memories is not much of a life.
You can feel very quickly as a prisoner of your past, of the memories.
I love out-of-the-way, rugged places. For me, holidays are about the experiences, and the people, and the memories, rather than sitting on a nice beach getting tanned. I try to plant myself where I am and embrace what is there in front of me.
Ohio means a lot to me. Kinda like a second home, just the memories I have here and the fans I made while at Ohio State with the things that I accomplished at that great university.
Snapchat really has to do with the way photographs have changed. Historically, photos have always been used to save really important memories: major life moments. But today… pictures are being used for talking.
I was supposed to go see Led Zeppelin when I was in, like, the 8th or 9th grade, and then John Bonham died and I never was able to. For me, music is such a huge part of my life, and I use songs like memory triggers. So a lot of my memories of being a kid and growing up are associated with different songs.
Emotionally, I have no picture-book illustrated with memories of my first five years, but externally, I have impressions that possess a haunting vividness comparable only to the texture of dreams, when dreams are tumultuously alive.
The Haisla named this point Obela. Not so long ago, the bay was lined with longhouses and canoes, totem poles and fishing gear. The reserve was once a winter village, a place to celebrate the sacred season, when memories passed in dance and song and stories from one generation to the next with great feasts called potlatches.
Everybody remembers ‘Just Shoot Me,’ and I’m very proud of that. It’s still on TV, and people still catch it and laugh about it, and I personally have wonderful, wonderful memories working with those people.
When I recall today my early youth, I should take the boy that I then was, with the exception of a few individual features, for a different person, were it not for the existence of the chain of memories.
People used to say my son looked like a Mexican Biggie. And when he was first born, memories of Biggie… you know, we didn’t always have the greatest days. For at least half the length of our marriage we were separated, so everyday was definitely not a good day.
I write with a mouse, because it has no psychological associations or memories or habits associated with it.
My earliest memories of going to Fenway with my father are a blur: many games, me too young to care, but aware that our team ‘stunk.’ In those years, the 1960s, the Red Sox baseball card I always coveted most was not Carl Yastrzemski’s but the far more ordinary Felix Mantilla’s.
My early childhood memories center around this typical American country store and life in a small American town, including 4th of July celebrations marked by fireworks and patriotic music played from a pavilion bandstand.
I think the ’70s are always inspiring to me. I was born then, so I have a lot of memories about how my parents were and what kinds of movies I was watching.
Music seems hard-wired into our very being. It moves us, stirs us to action, sets us in motion, sticks in our memories and minds.
When memories fade, can one ever really return home?
People always complain about their memories, never about their minds.
I’m so different from the egotistical, self-centred person I was when I did those things. And to watch someone acting out your memories on the screen is like reliving it. Like someone taking you back and showing you what you did.
I love to see a wood full of bluebells. Growing up in the Kent countryside, I have special memories of this brief annual spectacle.
High school is what kind of grows you into the person you are. I have great memories, good and bad, some learning experiences and some that I’ll take with me the rest of my life.
There are so many memories for me in Manchester. Everywhere I go, I think, ‘I used to have boutiques here, clubs there, restaurants in that area.’
I actually interviewed other people about myself, and that alerted me to the fact that I had to really investigate my memories.
Conflicts are never caused in any simple way by identity, culture or economics. Where resources are scarce, or there are strong historical memories of conflict, small events are more likely to inflame passions.
For years, I have been harboring memories of my first major league game at a place named Ebbets Field in Brooklyn.
Fans all have their memories of pennant races, good memories, sick memories.
Where past generations had film cameras, scrapbooks, notebooks, and that part of the brain which stores memories, we now have a smartphone app for every conceivable recording need.
Whether you reach a lot of people or have a profound impact on a few people, their memories of you are your afterlife.
One of the best ways to make yourself happy in the present is to recall happy times from the past. Photos are a great memory-prompt, and because we tend to take photos of happy occasions, they weight our memories to the good.
I’m always trying to figure out ways to keep hold of memories. My one-sentence journal, for instance.
I have a terrible memory of my own past. I can barely remember my childhood. I have few memories from college and law school – though once I got married, I got the advantage of being able to consult my husband’s memory.
Our enemies are our evil deeds and their memories, our pride, our selfishness, our malice, our passions, which by conscience or by habit pursue us with a relentlessness past the power of figure to express.
I really love the Olympics: Daley Thompson’s back-flip, Derek Redmond’s father helping him finish the 400m after his hamstring snapped at the 1992 Games in Barcelona, Carl Lewis, Michael Johnson, Sir Steve Redgrave – childhood memories are flooded with these moments and idols.
More than specific memories of achievements, for me I remember the feeling you get when you were just at your very best – when you felt like you were floating across the court and could put the ball wherever you wanted.
My mom is awesome. She’s really young. My mom is 40, and she raised me listening to Nirvana and Courtney Love and Coldplay, Gin Blossoms, The Cranberries, and stuff. Like, my early, early memories are of being a little kid running around in floral skirts and Doc Martens when I was, like, three.
I think history is collective memories. In writing, I’m using my own memory, and I’m using my collective memory.
I never go to funerals. To me a person is dead when he breathes for the last time. After that, your memories should be personal.
There are cognitive processes and limbic reactions associated with basic emotions. And you can change brain chemistry, but you’re still not going to change memories and experiences in a human being.
The Holy Ghost brings back memories of what God has taught us. And one of the ways God teaches us is with his blessings and so, if we choose to exercise faith, the Holy Ghost will bring God’s kindnesses to our remembrance.
The ecstatic insanity of romantic pursuit can be so enhanced by music that entire romantic conquests, victories and ruinous, crushing defeats can be tied to songs to such a degree that it’s almost unbearable to listen to them again, as they bring back the memories so vividly.
For me, returning to Los Angeles annihilates the memories of where I have just been with an astonishing speed.
I’m one of these children who grew up at the knee of my grandmother and her elder sister, listening to very old people talk about their memories.
The forties are the time when you begin to take notice of certain aches and pains. Your body and brain behave in inexplicable ways: Less hair on your head, more in your ears and nostrils. More memories in the bank, less synaptic firepower with which to access them. Gravity has started to show its inexorable pull.
I tend to always carry a camera with me. I live next to a fire station, and I’ve got lots of photos of the hook and ladder coming out of the house. And I like food, so I tend to photograph wonderfully presented food all the time. To me those are very pleasant memories.
All evidence indicates that the neuron does not reset. The synapses do not reset. They are always different. They’re changing every millisecond. Your brain today is very, very different from what it was when you were 10 years old, and yet you may have profound memories from when you were 10.
I grew up with the ‘Star Wars’ movies since before I have many memories. We had them on VHS back in the day, so they were part of the fabric of growing up in my family.
Words outlive people, institutions, civilizations. Words spur images, associations, memories, inspirations and synapse pulsations. Words send off physical resonations of thought into the nethersphere. Words hurt, soothe, inspire, demean, demand, incite, pacify, teach, romance, pervert, unite, divide. Words be powerful.
There are too many books I haven’t read, too many places I haven’t seen, too many memories I haven’t kept long enough.
One of the characteristics of North American culture is that you can always start again. You can always move forward, cross a border of a state or a city or a county, and move West, most of the time West. You leave behind guilt, past traditions, memories.
If one’s memories of Baghdad women were only of those to be seen in the streets, they would be of leathery, wrinkled faces, prematurely old, figures which have lost all shape, and henna-stained hands crinkled and deformed by toil.
Memories have huge staying power, but like dreams, they thrive in the dark, surviving for decades in the deep waters of our minds like shipwrecks on the sea bed.
My first outdoor cooking memories are full of erratic British summers, Dad swearing at a barbecue that he couldn’t put together, and eventually eating charred sausages, feeling brilliant.
Our dreams must be stronger than our memories. We must be pulled by our dreams, rater than pushed by our memories.
Memories, impressions and emotions from the first 20 years on earth are most writers’ main material little that comes afterward is quite so rich and resonant.
You start getting hit with some very interesting situations in life – you as a parent – when they approach that teenage area, which is frightening because you still have memories of that age and the things you were doing at that age… Please don’t do what I did.
Some memories are unforgettable, remaining ever vivid and heartwarming!
When I was first approached about doing an autobiography, I said, ‘absolutely not.’ But when I sat down, memories came pouring out. It wrote very quickly – I think there was an emotional impulse, because once I started in, the story itself carried me along. It was a very intense writing period and took a year and change to finish.
Over the last few millennia we’ve invented a series of technologies – from the alphabet to the scroll to the codex, the printing press, photography, the computer, the smartphone – that have made it progressively easier and easier for us to externalize our memories, for us to essentially outsource this fundamental human capacity.
We often talk about people with great memories as though it were some sort of an innate gift, but that is not the case. Great memories are learned. At the most basic level, we remember when we pay attention. We remember when we are deeply engaged.
We reserve the term ‘genius’ for people who are creative, who are innovators, who think in ways that are entirely new. In the Middle Ages, the term ‘genius’ was reserved for people with the best memories. That is telling.
As bad as we are at remembering names and phone numbers and word-for-word instructions from our colleagues, we have really exceptional visual and spatial memories.
We’ve outsourced our memories to digital devices, and the result is that we no longer trust our memories. We see every small forgotten thing as evidence that they’re failing us.
We’re all just a bundle of habits shaped by our memories. And to the extent that we control our lives, we do so by gradually altering those habits, which is to say the networks of our memory. No lasting joke, or invention, or insight, or work of art was ever produced by an external memory. Not yet, at least.
A typical biography relying upon individuals’ notorious memories and the anecdotes they’ve invented contains a high degree of fiction, yet is considered ‘nonfiction.’
One of my earliest memories was me singing ‘Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin’ at the top of my voice when I was seven. I got totally carried away. My grandmother, Sarah, was in the next room. I didn’t even realise she was there. I was terribly embarrassed.
When we’re awake, cortisol can fragment memories – one reason eyewitness crime scene accounts are so unreliable. But at night that very fragmentation allows creative recombinations of ideas.
Works of art often last forever, or nearly so. But exhibitions themselves, especially gallery exhibitions, are like flowers they bloom and then they die, then exist only as memories, or pressed in magazines and books.
This story is based on a gentleman who indeed did… used to come to my parents’ house in 1971 from Bangladesh. He was at the University of Rhode Island. And I was four, four years old, at the time, and so I actually don’t have any memories of this gentleman.
While the majority of my childhood memories are beautiful, I also have experienced the challenges that Nigeria has faced since independence.
I have fond memories of the development work that led to a lot of great things in modern gaming – the intensity of the first person experience, LAN and Internet play, game mods, and so on.
I never saw my grandfather because he had died before I was born, but I have good memories of my grandmother and of how she could play the piano at the old house.
From my earliest memories, I loved the farm. My grandfather was a charter subscriber to Rodale’s Organic Gardening and Farming Magazine and had a huge, well kept garden with an octagonal chicken house in the corner.
Memories of the last nine years have turned Ground Zero from a site of horror, to a reminder of grief, to an occasion for ludicrous artistic posturing – and now to something very close to parody.
So much of what we do is ephemeral and quickly forgotten, even by ourselves, so it’s gratifying to have something you have done linger in people’s memories.
To remember my values, I need to lose certain tastes and find other handles for the memories that they once helped me carry.
I have very distinct memories about growing up as part of what was then a very small Jewish community in Buffalo Grove, IL.
A theory of creativity is actually just a metaphor. A pool of ideas, a well of memories, a voice.
My earliest memories of holidays are from when I was about eight. We lived in Pennsylvania, and every year we’d visit Miami.
Basically you come up with the fictional idea and you start writing that story, but then in order to write it and to make it seem real, you sometimes put your own memories in. Even if it’s a character that’s very different from you.
We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they’re called memories. Some take us forward, they’re called dreams.
I grew up in New York City, and I’ve got wonderful memories of the Fourth of July fireworks.
Everyone has a different impression of what they are eating not everyone tastes the same things, and definitely, not everyone has the same food memories.
Every song brings back memories, like I remember where I wrote all these songs. ‘Universal Heartbeat’ was my apartment in New York City. ‘My Sister’ was at my apartment in Boston. I remember places and I remember what I was thinking when I wrote it.
I’m blessed with a great memory. To be honest, a lot of times, being on my own at such a young age, my memories were all I had. I didn’t have many pictures.
I have a lot of fond memories of St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago. Vague, but fond.
Travelling to make television programmes means I have some unusual food memories. In Pasto, Colombia, I was taken to a restaurant where I chose my meat for the evening from a cage of white rats. It tasted perfectly good – like rabbit.
Women are more emotional than men, so they must attach emotion to their memories.
When I started writing, I was a great rationalist and believed I was absolutely in control. But the older one gets, the more confused, and for an artist I think that is quite a good thing: you allow in more of your instinctual self your dreams, fantasies and memories. It’s richer, in a way.
I know some of my memories are made up and they are far more powerful than the things that actually happened. For example, I always remember my brother posting me a copy of ‘Dubliners’ from Africa, but he says he never did.
I kicked college nostalgia in my late 20s. As much as I loved college and treasure the memories, I no longer want to go back.
It’s strange to look back over a full season. Our characters have accrued all these memories, but so have we, the actors. And sometimes the character memories and the actor memories bleed into each other.
The Jungian view of drama would be that it affects all of our imaginations and somehow taps into our hidden, ancient, primordial memories.
To be honest, I think I’d become a bit selfish with memories of my father. I wanted to hug them close to me.
He was an amazing father. I clutched my memories of him to my heart for so long, but he’s a part of the world.
The way I look at it, they’re all part of my musical diary, and I can listen to any one of them and it will bring up memories of what was going on at that time.
I read less of everything now. With only fond memories of others’ work, it will be interesting to give my own journal writing a try now.
We can best honor the memories of those who were killed on September 11 and those who have been killed fighting the war on terrorism, by dedicating ourselves to building a free and peaceful world safe from the threat of terrorism.
For many, the recent disclosure of massive warrantless surveillance programs of all citizens by the Obama administration has brought back memories of George Orwell’s ‘1984.’ Another Orwell book seems more apt as the White House and its allies try to contain the scandal: ‘Animal Farm.’
Movies by Carlos Saura and others had ghosts, memories from the past, that they used to make a political point. Things you couldn’t talk about openly, you could speak of through ghosts.
I’d have to say, for me, as a child, my favorite memories were always centered around Christmas time. It always seemed like no matter how much money my parents had or didn’t have, we got completely spoiled rotten. There were always presents under the tree, and we always did special things, like hide elves around the house.
I have to say, creating memories is so important to me that I did a book about creating memories for your family.
From the first place of liquid darkness, within the second place of air and light, I set down the following record with its mixture of fact and truths and memories of truths and its direction toward the Third Place, where the starting point is myth.
Memories, even bittersweet ones, are better than nothing.
I don’t mind being an only child never have. I am lucky, though, that I have my friend Emily, who grew-up very close to me and so, there is someone I have shared memories with. I would miss that if I didn’t have it, I think.
I was raised in a Catholic family, spent twelve years in parochial schools, and had extremely fond memories of my interactions with Catholic clergy.
I’ve always loved history, from my youngest memories. My father enjoyed the great stories of history, like Hereward the Wake, Robin Hood, and Richard the Lionheart, and he shared them with me. I went on to do a degree in history, though I found it rather dry, because it was mostly about politics rather than dashing individuals!
I have ten thousand memories of myself writing alone in basements, bizarre servant quarters, cemeteries, deserted fountains, the band van, and other awkward settings.
I can say I’m a little scared of racing. It brings back memories, of course. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.
Lorna was quite young when her mother died, and I think she’s blocked out some of the memories. I talked to her a little bit about that, but I wasn’t prepared to go around and poke and hurt her.
Before I proposed to my now-wife, I was understandably nervous. My father suggested that I take stock of all of my experiences and relationships with women, from my earliest memories to present day, and see if I had learned anything that might inform my decision.
I have a treasure trove of Baker memories, all of which reinforce my sense of Howard Baker as one of the most decent people with whom I have worked. While I was simply a young staffer, he never treated me or my colleagues as anything else but equals.
I went to an international school in Holland, and I didn’t have any memories of growing up in the United States or England or any of these places which other novelists are able to write about in relation to their childhoods.
The horrors of the Second World War, the chilling winds of the Cold War and the crushing weight of the Iron Curtain are little more than fading memories. Ideals that once commanded great loyalty are now taken for granted.
I understand the nostalgia of having paper to feel and smell when you read it, but I would rather have fond memories of newspapers that have become obsolete than fond memories of beautiful forests that have become obsolete.
The Lucky One’ features a young concentration camp survivor named Peter Rashkin – who’s about the age my dad was when he started at CBS – working at the Oyster Bar, trying to acclimate to his new country and outrun the memories of the daily he left behind.
I think that people have short memories, and I think that they believe that our forbearers in the past were these Founding Fathers who were ideal and who were – would never have stooped to dirty tricks.
Oh yes, as a matter of fact it is quite interesting that exercises can be conducted which demonstrate conclusively that there are memories which exist prior to this life.
No memory is ever alone it’s at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each have their own associations.
When you’re in your 40s, you become more conscious of life being of limited duration and that you need to create memories and go on little adventures from time to time.
My first memories of music were country music and Ronnie Milsap. Where I grew up, it was what you listened to. And anything else, you were somewhat out of place.
If memories were indeed like what a camera records, they could be forgotten, or they could fade so that they are no longer clear and vivid. But it would be difficult to explain how people could have memories that are both clear and vivid while also being wrong. Yet that happens, and it is not infrequent.
I have nothing but the best memories of growing up in New Jersey. Of course, I grew up in a nice town, a suburb. But Tenafly was right next to Englewood, which had a tremendous amount of racial tension in the ’60s. So I was aware of the real world.
I have many memories of waking up to eat breakfast that my mother carefully prepared for us and her saying, what do y’all want for lunch, and as we’re eating lunch, what do y’all want for dinner? It’s always about the next meal.
I like Jailhouse Rock and Love Me Tender. The black-and-white films. With music, I tend more toward the ’70s stuff because I was at the shows for those, so they bring back memories.
I have a lot of memories, but I don’t go into capitalizing on that. Something’s got to be my own. I’m not doing the record to sit here and broadcast my memories of my father.
I was raised on T.V. dinners because in those days, they were considered a well-balanced meal. And when I was sick, my mother fed me beef-barley soup and peanut butter sandwiches. That’s about it for childhood food memories.
Over a period of 11 months, I was constantly afraid that Youth Care would lock me up. It was all a frightening and traumatic experience. So often, these terrible memories come to me. I can’t ignore them.
Other than motherhood, the eight years that I spent at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, I have incredibly fond memories of. It’s a beautiful place, with four seasons up in Wisconsin. And really wonderful people.
I have created a capsule collection for Genetic inspired by memories of growing up in LA. Denim has always been my go-to, especially during my modelling days. I discovered Genetic Denim about five years ago – they are so comfy, you could almost be wearing your pyjamas.
My love of baking might have originated with my grandmother. She had a lemon tree growing in her backyard, and one of my favorite memories is of picking lemons together and then baking lemon bars.
My favorite memories growing up in North Carolina were hunting and fishing with my father and brothers. There, I developed a deep appreciation for protecting land and waterways. There, I learned outdoorsmanship.
When you’ve experienced the real Marilyn, it’s difficult to watch a movie about her.’ I didn’t want to have the memories of my experience tarnished in any way.
Personally, I believe people who have a lots of memories are people who are living with zest.
It seemed like most of the memories faded before they had time to form. And after a while, my life with my father seemed like a familiar story or a distant dream.
One of my favorite vacation memories was the Thai foot massage and Internet access salons in Bangkok, followed up by my testing cellphone coverage while wading in Provincetown Harbor on Cape Cod.
I have really fond memories of growing up in Chicago, and I always love going back. I still have a lot of really good friends from high school that I go to dinner with. It’s kind of become a tradition when I go out there to do a show to give a few friends a call, tell some funny stories about high school and walk down memory lane.
I don’t click pictures. People carry a camera with them while travelling, take pictures, keep them as memories, but I don’t. I don’t even have a camera.
I try to always go for something… very interior, following thoughts and memories, something that I think is difficult to do on the screen, which is essentially a third-person medium.
My dad leaving my life. That’s the biggest thing that happened to me. I just remember what he tells me, the memories, and try to move on forward each day, knowing that he’s still here, looking down on me.
I have fond memories of Chris Penn, who’s sadly not with us. He always made me laugh – it was great to be with him.
When you discover that you are going to have a child, it stirs up memories of your own childhood.
My memories of Kabul are vastly different than the way it is when I go there now. My memories are of the final years before everything changed. When I grew up in Kabul, it couldn’t be mistaken for Beirut or Tehran, as it was still in a country that’s essentially religious and conservative, but it was suprisingly progressive and liberal.
I grew up in a family that despised displays of strong emotion, rage in particular. We stewed. We sulked. When arguments did occur, they were full-scale conniptions, and we regarded them as family failings. Afterward, we withdrew from one another and tried our best to strike the event from our memories.
While I revel in the memories of my own Grammy moment, I also know how it feels to walk away empty-handed.
When it comes to memories of that iconic type, memories that are burned into you, I have maybe ten or so from my childhood. I’m a bad rememberer of situations. I forget almost everything as soon as it happens.
It’s absolutely surprising to me how well ‘The State’ has held up as far as people liking it and having fond memories of it, considering it’s a sketch show.
It’s absolutely surprising to me how well ‘The State’ has held up as far as people liking it and having fond memories of it, considering it’s a sketch show. I think one of the things that helped its mystique is, it never came out on DVD or video or whatever.
When I went to shows with my friends, it was all about the experience with my friends. If I met the band, it was cool. But it was more about talking about the memories of the show with my friends.
What I think happened to the new arenas is that you need some memories. I remember going when the Staples Center first opened and it was like, ‘OK,’ but a couple championships later, and all of a sudden it becomes your house. You have to stake claim to it.
My daughter loves to cook. At first, I found myself making her be really neat and precise. Then I realized it’s OK if things get all over the floor and counters and ceiling. We’re making memories.
A lot of the things I hold onto have memories attached to them. Bags, shoes and jewelry that were given to me from photo shoots and fashion shows throughout my career.
My ex Shar tried to hide me, but Britney was proud to be with me. I have so many great memories that outweigh the bad.
Noises and smells, those can bring back powerful memories. I remember when I was going to school one Fourth of July, and there were a lot of fireworks going off. I knew that I was in Richmond. I knew that I was a college student. But I thought people were shooting at me.
The first thing I think of when I hear the name of Lucille Ball is a Hollywood legend. I have fond memories of growing up at her house, but she was a different person off the set than she was on the set.
With ‘Letters from Iwo Jima,’ then ‘Memories of Tomorrow,’ I reached a sort of turning point in my acting. I had poured so much of myself into those movies that I really had no idea where to go from there.
When I was little and I was introduced to Led Zeppelin, I didn’t know what a zeppelin was or who Zeppelin was or what the machine was. The real meaning is whatever feelings and memories you attach to the music.
I don’t feel a real need to specify the meaning of something. When I was little and I was introduced to Led Zeppelin, I didn’t know what a zeppelin was or who Zeppelin was or what the machine was. The real meaning is whatever feelings and memories you attach to the music.
Every mind is a clutter of memories, images, inventions and age-old repetitions. It can be a ghetto, too, if a ghetto is a sealed-off, confined place. Or a sanctuary, where one is free to dream and think whatever one wants. For most of us it’s both – and a lot more complicated.
The whole Obama phenomenon brings up memories from my distant past: the good-looking guy who talks real good, whose line you don’t buy immediately but whose charm is so dazzling that he gradually convinces you that this time it will be different.
My first memories of religion were being taken to Episcopal church. My father was Catholic, but my mother, I believe, was Episcopal. So I sort of veered off into the watered-down version of Catholicism.
If you’d rather live surrounded by pristine objects than by the traces of happy memories, stay focused on tangible things. Otherwise, stop fixating on stuff you can touch and start caring about stuff that touches you.
I have very fond memories of swimming in Walden Pond when we lived in Boston. You’d swim past a log and see all these turtles sunning themselves. Slightly disturbing if you thought about how many more were swimming around your toes, but also rather wonderful.
The Simpsons’ from the very beginning was based on our memories of brash ’60s sitcoms – you had a main title theme that was bombastic and grabbed your attention – and when you look at TV shows of the 1970s and ’80s, things got very mild and toned down and… obsequious.
I think that my regrets mostly have to do with my relationship with my ex-girlfriend. Every once in a while, you get those flashback memories of conversations you had with your exes, and you just, like, wince when you’re walking down the street. Something occurs to you, ‘Oh, no, I said that.’
I adored my mother, and I will always have extraordinary memories about her and remember her, and she opened the doors for me to appreciate arts.
One of my few childhood memories is as an eight-year-old, refused permission to watch the Hitchcock season on Irish television, sneakily viewing ‘The Birds’ though a crack in the living-room door. It transformed my hitherto perfectly enjoyable half-mile walk to school, down a country lane patrolled by watchful birds, into a terrifying ordeal.
Chocolate is the first luxury. It has so many things wrapped up in it: Deliciusness in the moment, childhood memories, and that grin-inducing feeling of getting a reward for being good.
I love to lounge, and I particularly love to eat outdoors. It’s a throwback to my childhood in Hawaii. I have memories of coming out of the sea and eating corn chips with a strawberry vanilla slush.
When I go back to the core of my childhood, my cousin Lucy seems always to be in the peripheral vision of my memories. She is off to one side, always off to one side, with a book, with a scheme or a project or an enterprise.
I was a B.I.G. fan. I like all of his stuff. I don’t really have a favorite song. They all are good, and each brings different memories to me. And you can still listen to it to this day and it means something.
My dad was a huge country music fan, but he also had a band and he sang. So he’d listen to a lot of music and the songs that he’d learn for the band were more from the male artists. So my earliest country memories were Waylon Jennings, Conway Twitty, George Jones, Johnny Paycheck even.
Most of my memories of the Sixties are ones of optimism, high spirits and confidence.
To this day, I have the most fond memories of some of my old toys.
We all know that the great memories of our childhood are the little triumphs – it doesn’t really matter whether that was in writing, art, on the hockey field or on the football field. It’s something that makes you feel – ‘I can do this stuff.’
My memories of Las Vegas were all with my father when I was, like, a teenager. He was best friends with Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, and we’d come up and see the shows and go backstage afterwards and have dinner together. It was one of my first educations about stars and how they really are back stage.
I have very happy memories of fairy tales. My mother used to take me to the library in Toronto to check out the fairy tales. And she was an actress, so she used to act out for me the different characters in all these fairy tales.
My earliest memories are of watching ‘Star Trek’ and ‘MASH’ while my parents barbecued chicken in the back yard. I was an American kid, through and through.
Like Jesus, every human being has enough memories in his past to occupy his time and thoughts continually. It is not the remembrance of these incidents but the reliving of them that creates havoc in our souls.
The poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories.
My grandmothers are full of memories, smelling of soap and onions and wet clay, with veins rolling roughly over quick hands, they have many clean words to say, my grandmothers were strong.
My first and strongest memories about perfume come from childhood, from my mother, and they are a complex blend of her private and public selves.
My only memories of school are of being beaten, of being hit in the playground, of masters poking their fingers in my chest all day.
I have a lot of objects in my space, little things, reminders, memories.
The actual, original ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,’ I have vague memories of because I was pretty small, but I loved, loved, loved it. I have only those weird, visceral little-kid memories: I remember the extreme flat, two dimensional green that was their skin or the weird pizza with no sauce – it was just like yellow, drippy cheese.
I have very fond memories of the ’80s they were very formative years for me. I certainly remember the Cold War. It was a closer doorstep for the Brits than the Americans, so it was a very real and palpable threat at the time.
When I was 16, I was working on ‘Arrested Development.’ My memories of being 16 were just trying to keep up with school while doing the show and trying to be around all those people on the show, as much as I could.
I found one remaining box of comics which I had saved. When I opened it up and that smell came pouring out, that old paper smell, I was struck by a rush of memories, a sense of my childhood self that seemed to be contained in there.
No matter where we come from or where we’re going, we’ve all got memories to contend with, and it’s always best not to do this alone!
An awful lot of people have childhood memories of holidays in Cornwall, and the holidays are old-fashioned and hugely successful. You stick a child and a dog on one of the beaches, and they just light up they just love it.
I’d drown in a sea of tears if I lived my life ruminating on the past. I would undoubtedly revise memories to be more joyful that they were, or ever have been.
Many people have fond memories of ‘The Monkees.’ I fondly remember it, too.
It’s important to dress our children well. I have some wonderful memories from my childhood, and so much is associated with what I was wearing. If you look good, you feel good – simple.
Writing a book is a very lonely business. You are totally cut off from the rest of the world, submerged in your obsessions and memories.
My memories of being nine or ten years old are especially vivid, since this is the time when you have a real sense of who you are – before the self-conscious preteen years start.
The sun setting on the Ucayali, with the Andean foothills in the background, and the taste of freshly cut papaya in my mouth, restoring a body utterly shattered, made for one of those ‘ones to tell the grandchildren’ memories.
Living in Sydney, I’ve taken the chance to start surfing again. One of my best memories of growing up is catching my first proper wave and surfing across it and my brother cheering at me from the shore.
I always joke that I want to be able to retire from boxing and still be able to look into the mirror without seeing scars all over my face. I love my sport, but I would rather not have to spend hours doing my makeup to cover up the memories once I retire.
My week at school would be good or bad depending on whether Balmain won. I have such fond memories of those suburban grounds, and everything was so undiluted. The players weren’t censored, and for me it was a wonderful period of my life when everything was simple and pure. For me, that resonated with rugby league.
In the life of a singer, it’s not all triumphs and happy memories there are days you have to go out there when it’s the last thing you feel like doing.
Mum left school at 15, and after a few years of modelling and dating jazz musicians, was married by 21 to my father, Mike Taylor, a journalist on the ‘Daily Mirror.’ They had my brother and me pretty quickly and had split up by the time I was two. I don’t really have any memories of them as a couple.
One of my initial memories of being taken over by music was watching Paul McCartney on TV play a tribute to John Lennon. He was playing piano by himself and singing ‘Imagine,’ and I remember feeling an anxiety and shortness of breath.
Our collective memories are welcoming places, and one image, that of Jesus, has absorbed and appropriated elements of other traditions and aspirations in order to shape our communal remembering.
Winning at Monaco feels unbelievable, because it’s such a special race and it’s also my home race. My first memories were of watching Ayrton Senna here with his yellow helmet, and one day dreaming to win the Monaco GP.
Time dissolves in summer anyway: days are long, weekends longer. Hours get all thin and watery when you are lost in the book you’d never otherwise have time to read. Senses are sharper – something about the moist air and bright light and fruit in season – and so memories stir and startle.
In one sense, every character you create will be yourself. You’ve never murdered, but your murderer’s rage will be drawn from memories of your own extreme anger. Your love scenes will contain hints of your own past kisses and sweet moments.
On a very personal level, I have fond memories of spending a lot of time in the Library of Congress working on my collection of poems ‘Native Guard.’ I was there over a summer doing research in the archives and then writing in the reading room at the Jefferson building.
As a boy, because I was born and raised in Ohio, about 60 miles north of Dayton, the legends of the Wrights have been in my memories as long as I can remember.
I’m the first to admit that I like going to, or my memories at least of going to Clint Eastwood movies or Charles Bronson or James Bond.
Actors, their greatest tool, their greatest resource is imagination. You can take things, power objects, you can recruit your dreams, you can access your memories and get there. So the idea is not to act but to just be.
Some may remember, if you have good memories, that there used to be a concept in Anglo-American law called a presumption of innocence, innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. Now that’s so deep in history that there’s no point even bringing it up, but it did once exist.
One of my most vivid memories from 1974 was the gas station at the foot of the hill below my Southern California high school – car lines snaking out into the street, heralding the failure of the government’s price controls and lame ideas such as odd-even rationing.
I find my earliest memories covering the anachronistic features of a previous incarnation. Clear recollections came to me of a distant life, a yogi amidst the Himalayan snows. These glimpses of the past, by some dimensionless link, also afforded me a glimpse of the future.
The memories that I have are mostly at our old ranch, out in Agoura. We used to go out there every Saturday. I can smell the oak trees. I can see it so clearly.
The memories stayed with him for so long, and stayed vivid. And it didn’t matter to me that he’d already repeated that before. I could hear it forever.
As an observer, I react to the realities of Israeli life with both envy and relief. Nobody wants to live under the threat of constant attack from enemies right next door, under ceaseless and often unfair international scrutiny, defending his homeland by day and living with the memories of mass genocide at night.
I cannot believe that ‘Pinocchio’ is over yet, and I always think about so many great memories that I made while playing in the drama.
I wanted my children to have the same exposure to the water I had. My strongest memories of Northeast Harbor are going in a small Whaler with my dad, looking for osprey.
Things like the movie ‘Memento’ are interesting to me because our memories of the things we’ve done and how we’ve behaved form our notion of who we are, what our character is. So if part of that were missing, what does that actually say about you? And what does it say about your sense of responsibility for things if you can’t remember them?
I grew up in the Deep South, where sexism, racism, and homophobia were and still are alive and well. I have early, early memories of words and actions of this type being very painful.
I was born and raised in the Bronx and my grandfather and my brother Garry were huge Yankees fans. One of my first memories is of them listening to a game on the radio and screaming at the radio. My brother would cry when they lost, and when I was really little, I didn’t know why he was crying.
The earliest memories I have of the ocean are actually stories – stories from my grandfather, the legendary ocean explorer and conservationist Jacques Cousteau. My passion for ocean conservation stems from learning at a very young age that we’re all connected we’re all in this together.
Obviously, I have a lot of memories here… but at the same time I’m going to put all my energies into moving forward and doing my best for the Thrashers.
I have really fond memories of Texas. By the time I was eight, we started to go back to Chile very regularly, and many family members came to visit us because we couldn’t go visit them.
Music evokes so many feelings in us, memories, nostalgia, things that are connected to our past.
Memories, imagination, old sentiments, and associations are more readily reached through the sense of smell than through any other channel.
Family holidays and weekends are really brightly colored memories, full of my mother and father, rather than our nannies and au pairs.
I live in the present. When I finish a film, it is behind me. My reward is in my work, not in a lot of old memories.
Most of my memories of Texas are of mosquitoes, watermelons, crickets, and my brother teasing me.
I have vivid memories of junior high school. I didn’t quite know how to deal with kids and make friends and all of that. If you talked to people who knew me at the time, they’d think I was a popular kid in school. But boy, I didn’t feel that.
A lot of people think, ‘Oh, you made ‘SNL.’ You’re set. You’re good.’ No. All there is gigs, and you go from one gig to another. And hopefully you get a good gig, and it lasts for a while, and you get good work and people remember it, and you have good memories of it.
I have fond memories of my childhood. I spent five wonderful years on a popular TV show, but I didn’t have a normal childhood. I was tutored for grades 4-11.
Compared with other recent presidents whose stumbles and failures have assaulted the national self-esteem, memories of Kennedy continue to give the country faith that its better days are ahead. That’s been reason enough to discount his limitations and remain enamored of his presidential performance.
Once a popular Alaska governor with a modest record of accomplishment, Palin could conceivably revive her reputation in this era of short memories. But it’s hard to imagine her name atop the GOP ballot in 2016, when a cast of heavyweights who sat out 2012 will be vying for the nomination.
Stories about race and identity pique my interest for obvious reasons. That’s in my body, my brain, my history, my memories – it’s all part of my toolbox as an actor.
Information defines your personality, your memories, your skills.
I love travelling full stop – so while I’ve had some harrowing instances, I never look at them negatively. Memories are made when you’re travelling – not when you’re chained to your desk.
I have a lot of great memories, but I can’t imagine anything more exciting than the life I have now.
The psychologist Elizabeth Loftus has shown great courage, in the face of spiteful vested interests, in demonstrating how easy it is for people to concoct memories that are entirely false but which seem, to the victim, every bit as real as true memories.
How poor this world would be without its graves, without the memories of its mighty dead. Only the voiceless speak forever.
My earliest memories are sitting on the beach at Blackpool, and I know that if I went back, it would be horrible. I know what Blackpool’s like – it’s nothing like I imagined it was as a child.
Once I got a bit older, and we could see there could be a future in football, it was everyone’s blessing to chase that dream. And it did me a lot of good: It put me through college, it gave me an education, it got me a little taste of pro ball and a lot of good memories. I don’t regret any of it.
Memories of our lives, of our works and our deeds will continue in others.
There are terrible, terrible memories of September 11th, things that I saw, people that I lost, the devastation, the identification of bodies. I mean, all these memories come back to you at different times. And then the other side of it this tremendous response with the firefighters and the police officers saving people, the rescue workers.
I have great memories of being a Cub, and I’m happy building new ones with the Phillies.
Things don’t really impress me. Memories impress me. It’s not the toys, it’s the people.
A lot of my childhood memories involve walking home in floods of tears. At that age, feeling unpopular is difficult to handle.
I spoke so much about being a manic-depressive. I want to bring everyone back to my earliest memories of this companion of mine. Some people call this companion I have an ailment, or worse a terrible nightmare from which some people cannot awaken. I know that I have nothing to be ashamed of. I have nothing that should garner a stigma.
There are a lot of good memories, and because I was injured, during the rehab, I met my wife. The tennis was very good but the injuries were good for something too.
I’m a writer and director, and the movie I’ve seen a million times is ‘Stardust Memories’ by Woody Allen, starring Woody Allen and Charlotte Rampling.
Perhaps the earliest memories I have are of being a stubborn, determined child. Through the years my mother has told me that it was fortunate that I chose to do acceptable things, for if I had chosen otherwise, no one could have deflected me from my path.
In humans, smell is often viewed as an aesthetic sense, as a sense capable of eliciting enduring thoughts and memories. Smell, however, is the primal sense. It is the sense that affords most organisms the ability to detect food, predators, and mates.
What you do on travel holiday is what your memories are based on. People want to do cool stuff, and this is what will shape your entire experience.
People often ask where I get my inspiration from, and I always say I have no good answer because, well, inspiration comes from everywhere: people, places, memories.
To reminisce with my old friends, a chance to share some memories, and play our songs again.
Memories are the best things in life, I think.
When I was growing up, we went to Musikfest every year, and I have vivid memories of the corn on the cob. I’m going for the concert, but I’m really going for the corn.
The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant.
It is right that he too should have his little chronicle, his memories, his reason, and be able to recognize the good in the bad, the bad in the worst, and so grow gently old down all the unchanging days, and die one day like any other day, only shorter.
I don’t think I’ll ever act again. I have so many wonderful memories, but those days are over.
Elixir’ means magical potion, so I wanted to depict the kind of bottle that was used in ancient times, but that looked modern and chic as well. I also wanted it to have a golden tint to evoke the memories of sands and sunsets.
Some people have a mistaken idea that all thoughts disappear through meditation and we enter a state of blankness. There certainly are times of great tranquility when concentration is strong and we have few, if any, thoughts. But other times, we can be flooded with memories, plans or random thinking. It’s important not to blame yourself.
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.
I’ve never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don’t understand people who hide from their past. Everything you live through helps to make you the person you are now.
Like most people, I have painful memories of trying to fit in as a child. I wore, said, and did pretty much what everyone else did.
My dad taught me from my youngest childhood memories through these connections with Aboriginal and tribal people that you must always protect people’s sacred status, regardless of the past.
Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories.
Music, at its essence, is what gives us memories. And the longer a song has existed in our lives, the more memories we have of it.
I have two lovely sons and some good memories, but I’ve had a rather tumultuous personal life. It hasn’t been dull I’ve been the Hiroshima of love.
The hippocampus helps record both types of memories initially, and it helps retain them for the medium term. The hippocampus also helps us access old personal memories in long-term storage in other parts of the brain.
The cybermen are good monsters, I think. My earliest memories are of the cybermen from when I used to watch when I was younger. It’s nice to have them back.
We would go in there with our parents once in a while for – actually go into Manhattan for dinner, weekends occasionally to a museum, but most of my memories of traveling into Manhattan was with the school trips and then later on as we got, you know, into high school, kind of on our own and with friends.
In some instances, the accuracy of past-life memories can be objectively verified, sometimes with remarkable detail.
God bless you if you have one child, but I don’t think anybody should have just one child. Everybody needs a sibling. I have siblings, and I have so many amazing, precious memories with my siblings. I don’t know what I would do if I had been an only child.
When I was little I went to a Baptist Church with my grandmother. My earliest memories were of her falling out in the middle of the floor and they had to cover her with a white sheet. Every time we went to church it was scary. The music would start playing, and then everybody would start running and shouting and hollering and screaming.
Every childhood has its talismans, the sacred objects that look innocuous enough to the outside world, but that trigger an onslaught of vivid memories when the grown child confronts them.
All my best memories of my brother are in vehicles, speeding, predatory or celebratory. We were just made to drive. For the last 12 years of his life, he lived as caretaker of an orange grove. There, on 18 acres, my brother collected cars and trucks and motorcycles.
I have memories of films that nobody ever saw, that I was very proud of, and those are still great memories.
Agatha Christie holds special personal memories for me because my mum, a television producer called Pat Sandys, had been the first person to persaude the Agatha Christie estate to put one of her stories on T.V.
One of my earliest memories is of being about three and a half, climbing through the legs of a man who I didn’t know was the famous actor, Patrick Magee.
One of my earliest memories is my father telling me to behave because I’m about to meet and work with the greatest actor of all time. Then this old guy comes out and I was like, ‘Pfff, he doesn’t look anything like Luke Skywalker, I don’t know what my dad is trying to tell me here.’
I think things like food, the food of the south is sort of the common tie that binds us all, Black and White, the sense memories. It’s a very particular part of the country.
When we come to images or memories or thoughts, speculation, while always closely related to practice, is more explicit, and it is in fact not immediately obvious that such processes can be described in any sense as practical.
I’ve always been a fan of Nintendo. My first memories of playing games are on my Nintendo 64 with ‘Mario Kart,’ so when I found out that Nintendo 3DS made a fashion game, I was drawn to it. ‘Style Savvy Trendsetters’ is great because anyone can play it.
By interviewing at least one veteran, you can preserve memories that otherwise might be lost. My uncle was a downed fighter pilot and P.O.W. in World War II, and I am looking forward to recording his story for inclusion in the project.
I love New York. It is an amazing city, and the U.S. Open is a lot about the show. There are tens of thousands of spectators these are some of the best courts in the world, and there is nothing like being here and making memories.
One of my earliest memories is being backstage at ‘Bran Nue Dae’ in Darwin when I was about eight. It’s such a fun, happy show and a real celebration of being Aboriginal… it felt really great and achievable as a career. It all felt normal.
Even if he was happier in Asia than he’d been in Latin America, the wanderlust still worked on my father’s insides like a disease. One of the most recurrent memories of my childhood is of him sitting in his armchair in the evenings, poring over atlases the way other fathers read newspapers or books.
I lived in upstate New York until I was ten years old and we moved overseas. I have a lot of nostalgic memories of that part of the world, and I love going back there by writing the Lakeshore books.
My house was full of music. My main memories are of the record player at home: it was all Beatles and Rolling Stones, and we danced around the living room that started me off on instruments, and I’ve done nothing else ever since.
The brain is behind the really big questions we have. Who am I, what is my identity? What is that based on? If memories are encoded in connectomes, your personality might be in your connectome. If that’s the case, that’s the basis of your uniqueness as a person.
I can trace every romance of my life back to a meal. My memories are enhanced by the tender morsels had at tables across from lovers, on blankets with friends who’d eventually become more, in banquets, barbecues, and breakfasts.
Hibakusha’ is an animated docu-drama that Choz Belen and I are directing, and it will take you through the earliest memories of a Hiroshima atomic bomb survivor named Kaz Suyeishi.
By showing hunger, deprivation, starvation and brutality, as well as endurance and nobility, documentaries inform, prod our memories, even stir us to action. Such films do battle for our very soul.
The first time I dedicated myself to resurrecting and preserving somebody’s memories was with my great-uncle. I knew he was going to die in the next few years, and I had grown up listening to all his stories about people who had been trapped or chased by the Nazis. I began to record them.
My fondest memories were watching the Beastie Boys get prepped to come on stage. They had a lot of antics and they play a lot of basketball… then they were giving out cameras to the crowd, and performing from the bleachers. The most important thing I learned was that you control your crowd, not the other way around.
Let’s get into talking about how autism is similar animal behavior. The thing is I don’t think in a language, and animals don’t think in a language. It’s sensory based thinking, thinking in pictures, thinking in smells, thinking in touches. It’s putting these sensory based memories into categories.
I do not, in fact, use many puns. Certainly there are far fewer than people believe. But I suspect the ones I do occasionally use tend to hang around in people’s memories for a while.
For people like me, who have blocked out a chunk of their past, you wonder – if you open that door, if you walk into that room of your memories, what will happen? Will it destroy you or will it make you stronger?
One of the things that I share with Bryan Becket is this hole in my childhood memory. There’s about five years of my life that’s virtually gone. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it might be for my own protection that those memories are gone, and maybe I don’t want to dredge up those things.
I carry the memories of the ghosts of a place called Vietnam – the people of Vietnam, my fellow soldiers.
Growing up, dinner was when we would sit down, the whole family, and we would talk about our days and just create memories with one another. Now some of my favorite memories are eating and making food with my son.
I’ve been writing an ongoing letter to my children since they were born, full of recollections of their childhoods. I’ve filled two journals. It’s a great thing to do as a mother – you forget a lot as you go along, but reading over what you’ve written brings all the memories back.
I’ve watched with a kind of wary eye how gaming has progressed. I was there at the beginning with Pong in the arcade, and a lot of my great childhood memories were around a ‘Tempest’ machine.
Ryan is my bridge to the past, to memories that lose some of their sting when he recounts them.
Through the years, I have so many wonderful memories of playing with the Red Wings: winning four Stanley Cups, scoring big goals, going into battle every night side by side with my teammates, playing with every ounce of effort I could muster.
Australia is an island surrounded by water. My fondest memories growing up were trips to the beach, walking around the harbor and playing in the beautiful parks.
Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.
What makes old age hard to bear is not the failing of one’s faculties, mental and physical, but the burden of one’s memories.
Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector’s passion borders on the chaos of memories.
The NFL is such a large, multibillion dollar enterprise with fan loyalty because they have provided not only entertainment for sports fans, but memories, good memories, family memories to these fans, that can only bring about good will.
One of my first memories of being a kid was, ‘I want to have a real job when I grow up.’ And to me that meant you wear a suit and a hat and carry a briefcase and go to your job.
Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.
As a novelist, where do you go to tap into memories, and impressions, and sensations? It’s usually, in my experience, your early life, before you started thinking of yourself as a writer, because somehow those experiences are unadulterated.
Sometimes a scene works and acting is the easiest thing in the world and you don’t have to do much of anything – just enjoy yourself and listen to the other actor. When it doesn’t work, then every actor has different ways of dealing with the impasse. Sometimes you use memories from the past. Whatever. It depends from job to job.
It is not fun singing about losing somebody like that, but at the same time it was easy to write because the memories were so real and vivid and so much a part of who I am.
I have such bad memories, sitting in the back of a classroom, being told, you know, everybody is going to read a paragraph, and skipping ahead to my paragraph and being mortified and trying to read it enough times so that I wouldn’t stutter and stammer, getting called on, even in high school.
I love the food, the girls, the sky and everything that is Delhi. I have very fond memories of the Moolchand flyover.
I love to dance, and sing – in the shower, not in public. I’m too old to go raving, but my fondest memories are of that kind of thing – dancing, with lots of people, outside if possible.
My dream is to stand in front of 60,000 people in an arena and know that everyone came because they wanted to make memories with me.
As a child, we visited the San Juan Islands during the summer. Kayaking, big family meals, playing on the beach – great memories!