Stephanie Ruhle Quotes

I love graduation speeches. I have always loved them; I will always love them.

The things we remember best are those better forgotten.

Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.

I've finally graduated from 'I don't give a hoot.'

It is curious to note how fragile the memory is, even for the important times in one's life. This is, moreover, what explains the fortunate fantasy of history.

I can be like that: forgetting how hard it was to do something after I'm past it.

I must be careful not to get trapped in the past. That's why I tend to forget my songs.

It's funny, I listen to friends who talk about back when they were 14, eight, 16, whatever, as if it was yesterday. Me, I've no idea what I did. It's all a blur, I'm afraid.

The college graduate is presented with a sheepskin to cover his intellectual nakedness.

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

When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened or not.

I think it's foolish to think that if you've done something for so long, you can kind of delete it out of your memory bank or delete every emotion attached to it. I knew when I retired what that meant.

We cannot dwell on remembered glory.

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

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

The strange thing about living somewhere for a couple of years and then moving on and not returning is that those locations become ghosts of themselves in your mind.

I'm not too interested in talking about the past. It doesn't do us any good whatsoever.

I don't like talking about bygones.

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

All that I've lived I've forgotten, as if I'd vaguely heard it. All that I'll be reminds me of nothing, as if I'd lived and forgotten it.

As I stepped to the stage to pick up my degree, and the locusts sang off in the distance.

As for the square at Meknes, where I used to go every day, it's even simpler: I do not see it at all anymore. All that remains is the vague feeling that it was charming, and these five words that are indivisibly bound together: a charming square at Meknes. ... I don't see anything any more: I can search the past in vain, I can only find these scraps of images and I am not sure what they represent, whether they are memories or just fiction.

They would grow old. They would forget me.

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?

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!