Milan Kundera Quotes

And never forget, there is memory.

Memory is very important, the memory of each photo taken, flowing at the same speed as the event.

Memory is the treasure house of the mind wherein the monuments thereof are kept and preserved.

I vaguely remember doing [all my] photo sessions, but definitely there were some surprises there for me.

Memory is useful because it gives us a sense of continuity. But memory is also imprisoning because it conditions us in predictable ways.

Deciding to remember, and what to remember, is how we decide who we are.

Develop your visual memory. Draw everything you have drawn from the model from memory as well.

To the best of my recollection, I must recall on my memory, I cannot remember

Photography has definitely been my favorite way to remember things. At least for me that’s how my brain processes things, of memories or moments - if I take a picture of it I can remember so many more details. I think it’s about choosing the exact picture in my head that signifies or symbolizes a moment - almost as if you’re using film. It’s almost archaic.

Pictures can live in one's memory. That's why they are important.

La memoria no guarda películas, guarda fotografías.

The strands are all there; to the memory nothing is ever lost.

Memory selects single important images, just as the camera does. In that manner both are able to isolate the highest moments of living.

I have a very vivid memory.

To me, pictures are about memory.

I like to capture moments. It's like a photograph. Ten years from now you look at the photograph and you don't remember it but rather the whole week or month around the photo.

Nothing awakens reminiscence like an aroma.

In her final years she would still recall the trip that, with the perverse lucidity of nostalgia, became more and more recent in her memory.

What you remember saves you.

Memory was that woman on the train. Insane in the way she sifted through dark things in a closet and emerged with the most unlikely ones - a fleeting look, a feeling. The smell of smoke. A windscreen wiper. A mother's marble eyes. Quite sane in the way she left huge tracts of darkness veiled. Unremembered.

I think of memory as a game, that is as something one engages in with a very profound kind of "playfulness."

Memory demands an image.

For in the end, it is all about memory, its sources and its magnitude, and, of course, its consequences.

Memory is imagination pinned down.

Interviewing is in some ways the art of memory.