Chuck Palahniuk Quotes

I keep mementos from everything I've done.

Memories are the best things in life, I think.

Let us say in the pocket of one of my old coats I find a movie ticket from many years ago. Once I see the ticket, not only do I remember that I saw this movie, but also scenes from this movie, which I think I have entirely forgotten, come back to me. Objects have this power, and I like it.

Clothes have memories, and sometimes you don't want to remember. People remember where they bought the clothes, who gave them, or where they stole them from.

I love having my ghosts, and I love having my memories.

I pile up the press clippings and send them off to my mother. She's got a scrapbook going back to when I was, like, eight years old.

All those years and their moments— Crackling bacon, slamming car doors, Poems tried out on friends, Will be one more archive, One more shaky text.

This house sheltered us, we spoke, we loved within those walls. That was yesterday. To-day we pass on, we see it no more, and we are different, changed in some infinitesimal way. We can never be quite the same again.

It was all I had, all I've ever had, the only currency, the only proof that I was alive. 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.

A long long time ago, I can still remember how that music use to make me smile.

Clothing is . . . an exercise in memory. It makes me explore the past: how did I feel when I wore that. They are like signposts in the search for the past.

The cloak of the past is cut from patches of feeling ,and sewn with rebus threads.Most of the time , the best we can do is wrap it around ourselves for comfort or drag it behind us as we struggle to go on .

The girl traced the outline of her lover's shadow so she would always have a record of how he looked.

The past is what you take with you.

Every house we have lived in, every building to which our hands have lent their work, belongs to us by virtue of love or of regret.

From early on I valued the gift of memory above all others. I understood that as we grow older we carry a whole nation around inside of us, places and ways that have disappeared, believing that they are ours, that we alone hold the torch for our past, that we are as impenetrable as stone.

The past is no farther away than your pillow.

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who know where their high school yearbook is and those who do not.

I am always drawn back to places where I have lived, the houses and their neighborhoods.

What happiness is there in just the memory of happiness?

I love all things, not because they are passionate or sweet-smelling but because, I don't know, because this ocean is yours, and mine: these buttons and wheels and little forgotten treasures, fans upon whose feathers love has scattered its blossoms, glasses, knives and scissors -- all bear the trace of someone's fingers on their handle or surface, the trace of a distant hand lost in the depths of forgetfulness.

I do hang on to things. I was so happy my father saved his army jacket. I grew up wearing that all through high school.

At a very early age I started a cartoon scrapbook, actually when I was in high school. And it became, in turn, a scrapbook of my life. And there are about 2,000 volumes.