Human memory is a marvelous but fallacious instrument. The memories which lie within us are not carved in stone; not only do they tend to become erased as the years go by, but often they change, or even increase by incorporating extraneous features.
When you begin to think about the past, you realize how much of it is lost to us.
A lot of my past is gone from my mind.
You can't recall someone whose name has worn away.
Everytime you grab at love you will lose a snowflake of your memory
The velocity and volume on the Web are so great that nothing is forgotten and nothing is remembered.
Like a tree losing its leaves. I forget even the thing I was thinking.
The years leech at a man's memories, even those he has vowed never to forget.
My memories pale as I prevail upon them again and again. They become more and more ghostly. I fear nothing so much as losing them altogether and having only my blank endless mind to live in.
