I'm surprised by how much I remember [on childhood on film]. I think it's just because I had these interesting moments. Of course, you never know when they're interesting moments, but there was a lot of stuff that I remember and have attached significance to later. I remember enough. I remember highlights.
I cherish the dreams of yesterday and dare not dwell on the err's of my past whose fate has been long decided, and effect I can not change. For the dreams of yesterday are the challenges of today, and the hope for tomorrow.
The rediscovered path, where were left the traces of childhood's lost steps.
When I look back at it now, my past and the way I grew up, I grew up on communes.
What's gone will never come back, but it exists when you think of it.
Memory seldom fails when its office is to show us the tombs of our buried hopes.
I've experienced great things, I've experienced great tragedies. I've done almost everything I could possibly ever imagine doing, but I just know that there's more.
Had you told me 20 years ago this would be my life, I'd have gone "What?" and then stuck out my tongue to all the girls that were mean to me.
Death is always sad, I suppose, to us who look forward to it: I expect it will seem very different when we can look back upon it.
Sweet memory, wafted by the gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
For inspiration you go to the archives, you go to things of the past, but you still need to be contemporary for today. You can never forget the time you're living in because the past is the past and it will never come back.
Memories were the markers of the journey through life. It was necessary to know where you had come from. Only then could you know where you were going.
The present moment is changing so fast that we often do not notice its existence at all. Every moment of mind is like a series of pictures passing through a projector. Some of the pictures come from sense impressions. Others come from memories of past experiences or from fantasies of the future.
I like the immaterial world. I like to live among thoughts and images of the past and the possible, and even of the impossible, now and then.
It's not unusual for writers to look backward. Because that's your pool of resources. If you were to write something now, I bet there's a pretty good chance you'd call on your teenage years, your experiences then, stuff you learned then.
If I have known much trouble in my youth, I have also known much joy.
All our yesterdays are summarized in our now, and all the tomorrows are ours to shape.
In December people give no thought to the Past or the Future. They thing only of the Present.
