Randy Pausch Quotes

Taking walks sometimes bring back memories of my childhood because a smell might trigger a memory.

If you're walking down the street and you smell a scent, it can take you right back to a memorable time in your life, whether it's a moment with an ex-girlfriend or a childhood event.

There is nothing like an odor to stir memories.

Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.

Then my uncle would give off the smell of freshly baked bread which I love.

Scents evoke very, very powerful memories, whether it's the scent of someone that you know and someone that you love, or if it's a meal that your mother made.

Smell is so powerful, you know. My grannies would both bake things like shortbreads and cookies. I think whenever I smell those kinds of things it really takes me back to my childhood.

One of the great things about music is that it has the capability of time travel - you smell a certain smell in the room and it takes you back to your childhood. I feel like music is able to do that, and it happens to me all the time.

I think listening to music from your youth is as powerful as a scent passed beneath your nose.

I love the smell of vanilla, but I didn't have perfumes growing up, so I wore vanilla extract.

When I write about things, it's a lot to do with sense memory. How things smell and taste can bring incredible memories flooding back and transport you in an instant to another time and place.

Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived. The odors of fruits waft me to my southern home, to my childhood frolics in the peach orchard. Other odors, instantaneous and fleeting, cause my heart to dilate joyously or contract with remembered grief. Even as I think of smells, my nose is full of scents that start awake sweet memories of summers gone and ripening fields far away.

Nothing awakens reminiscence like an aroma.

The smells of Christmas are the smells of childhood [p. 53]

Of the women in my childhood, I retain above all the memory of their perfumes, perfumes that lingered - filling the lift with fragrance long after they had gone.

My mom would have different fragrances for different times of the year. They were a part of her identity. I don't remember the specific ones she used, but I remember the bottles.

I can remember being in my pram: children stayed in their prams much longer then than they do now. A big bouncy pram with black covers and a hood with metal clips that could trap your fingers. I was looking up at my sister who was sitting on the pram seat, with her back to me.

Yes, I always remember my dad's, mom's and my grandma's perfumes.

I have a painter's memory. I can remember things from my childhood which were so powerfully imprinted on me, the whole scene comes back.

I have a good memory for early life. My visual memory is good about childhood and adolescence, and less good in the last 10 years. I could probably tell you less what happened in the last 10 years. I remember what houses looked like, sometimes they just pop into my head.

Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains.

I think because I'm not a parent, my most immediate connection to childhood is my memory of my own childhood.

If you make a film about childhood, you've got to pick a moment - you know, 'The 400 Blows.'

If you have children and want to give your future self a present, record their laughter as toddlers. When they're older and away from you, you might find that clip in the middle of the day, and it will transport you as surely as if you had a time machine.

There are two smells that I can recognize right away. The smell of the boxing ring and the smell of a garage. That's where I grew up. I can recognize these places with my eyes closed.