Annie Lennox Quotes

[Memory] is a passion no less powerful or pervasive than love. It is [the ability] to live in more than one world, to prevent the past from fading, and to call upon the future to illuminate it.

Remembrance of things past.

My theme is memory, that winged host that soared about me one grey morning of war-time. We possess nothing certainly except the past.

The past scampers like an alley cat through the present, leaving the paw prints of memories scattered helter-skelter.

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.

It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.

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

I do enjoy thinking about the past.

memory is the only way home.

The act of memory is an act of ghostwriting.

Yesterday is just a memory.

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.

Henry James seems most entirely in his element, doing that is to say what everything favors his doing, when it is a question of recollection. The mellow light which swims over the past, the beauty which suffuses even the commonest little figures of that

History could hover, like a faint perfume or a memory stamped on the back of one's eyelids.

The past does not only draw us back to the past. There are certain memories of the past that have strong steel springs and, when we who live in the present touch them, they are suddenly stretched taut and then they propel us into the future.

How that name comes up. Mixing memory and desire

But standing in that hallway, it was all coming back to me. Memories were waiting at the edges of things, beckoning to me.

The Past, being in the mode of memory, is closed, inalienable, and irreparable.

These memories, which are my life--for we possess nothing certainly except the past--were always with me.

What does it remember like?

Memories just get richer with time.

Memory is the space in which a thing happens for a second time.

She glances at the photo, and the pilot light of memory flickers in her eyes.

I have more memories than if I were a thousand years old.