Fernando Pessoa Quotes

I did know once, only I've sort of forgotten.

We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget.

I don’t remember.

Generally people forget the past and the path they took.

Before we are forgotten, we will be turned into kitsch. Kitsch is the stopover between being and oblivion.

And what did I think when I was small and why did I forget? And what else will I forget when I grow older? And if you forget is it as if it never happened? Will none of the things you saw or thought or dreamed matter?

There is nothing that makes a man more self-satisfied than a poor memory.

I'm horrified to find, as I look at these diaries of twenty-five years ago or more, that I don't remember who the people were. "Bill and Tony were constantly in and out. We went to La Jolla" - or something. I haven't the bluest idea who they were!

Remembering is the most overrated thing. Forgetting is far superior.

It's my memory, and what happened between that moment 10 or 15 years ago and now, there's a lot of gray area.

By the time the discussion starts about a movie, it's like bringing up an old boyfriend. It's like, 'I don't even remember exactly what he was like, and now we have to talk about it?'

When you begin to think about the past, you realize how much of it is lost to us.

I always find it extremely hard to remember the act of beginning. I almost deliberately forget it.

I don't remember scenes. I'm like, 'Really, we shot that?'

Over time, I've paid attention, taken notes and forgotten easily half of everything I've gone through.

Whether it's my age or my misspent youth, sometimes I forget whether I've worked with somebody or not.

I remember rather little of my life, and what I do remember is of small consequence.

My memory stops at 14.

Our memory is and always will be as good as time travel gets, and in the meantime time will do the travelling for us.

Experience had taught me that even the most precious memories fade with the passage of time.

The memory of everything is very soon overwhelmed in time.

I've forgotten who I had lunch with earlier, and even more important, where.

The past was a dream wasn't it? And who ever remembers dreams?

Few have wished for memory so much as they have longed for forgetfulness.

...and down they forgot as up they grew.