Bret Easton Ellis Quotes

The past is never where you think you left it.

I am interested in the past. Perhaps one of the reasons is we cannot make, cannot change the past. I mean you can hardly unmake the present. But the past after all is merely to say a memory, a dream. You know my own past seems continually changed when I am remembering it, or reading things that are interesting to me.

I'm not the sort to wallow in nostalgia about the good old days.

We all have our time machines, don't we. Those that take us back are memories...And those that carry us forward, are dreams.

It's funny how close the past is, sometimes. Sometimes it seems as if you could almost reach out and touch it. Only who really wants to?

Visiting old haunts is hard on memory. Things shrink, change, and disappear.

Still, looking through the old volumes was soothing, because thinking of the past made the present seem a little less real.

Call us the future from your past.

I keep my scrapbooks in the car. When I come to a stoplight, I start looking through my past. Sometimes I wish the red lights were longer.

I tend to live in the past because most of my life is there.

I am not nostalgic for the past.

I like to spend time in the past, with the things that have been important to me.

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

The past, with its pleasures, its rewards, its foolishness, its punishments, is there for each of us forever, and it should be.

Your past is always your past. Even if you forget it, it remembers you.

I want to visit Memory Lane, I don't want to live there.

It becomes increasingly easy, as you get older, to drown in nostalgia.

Remember the past - and await the future.

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

Raking over the past and sifting its dust is an occupation for the idle or the elderly retired.

I still preserve those relics of past sufferings and experience, like pillars of witness set up in travelling through the valve of life, to mark particular occurrences. The footsteps are obliterated now; the face of the country may be changed; but the pillar is still there, to remind me how all things were when it was reared.

One of the reasons why old people make so many journeys into the past is to satisfy themselves that it is still there.

Memory, the priestess, kills the present and offers its heart to the shrine of the dead past.

there was a time when these weren't memories.

The past is a bucket of ashes