Personal Memory Quotes

My first public impression was my French teacher, Derek Swift.

If I go away, I take a little picture of my son. It's in a frame with a speaker, and he recorded a birthday message for me when he was nine or 10. I can't listen to it without filling up.

Not long before my mother died, I found a long-lost portrait of Jane Franklin's granddaughter, Jane Flagg, aged nine - oil on canvas - in the basement of a public library not a dozen miles from my mother's house.

My first day at Duddingston Primary is probably my first memory.

One can only remember what has been consciously experienced.

On Halloween, because we don't celebrate it, my dad would drive me somewhere, anywhere different. Like Little Italy in New York to walk around and teach me all about the food and culture.

I cry whenever I watch an emotional scene that I did, just because it brings me back to that moment. It's like, I remember being there; I remember feeling what I felt. It's really weird, right?

One of my favourite items is a very old jacket - it was my mum's uniform from when she was working 15 or 20 years ago.

When my grandfather died, I started adopting some of his accents, to sort of remind myself of him. A homage. He was a war hero, and he was really great with his hands.

Michael Owen's wonder goal against Argentina in 1998 was one defining memory, and as a Sunderland supporter, I remember crying my eyes out after they lost that play-off final against Charlton. Much as that hurt, it made me realise how much I wanted to play the game.

I saw Kim Nam Ju and Yu Jun Sang sing 'Trouble Maker' on 'Unexpected You,' and my mother really liked it. That's why it's the most memorable.

I can remember when I was a 17-year-old at Swansea and Terry Yorath and Tommy Hutchison were in charge.

My grandmother always used to wear this English perfume called Tuberose and then she died and then I dated this girl who wore the same thing. Every time I hung out with her, I could only think of my recently deceased grandmother. So sometimes a signature scent can be good and sometimes it can be bad.

Memories. That's the thing about photography. I look at the contact sheet, and it brings back everything: whether I was tired, whether I was full of beans.

I know the exact date that I began writing Twilight, because it was also the first day of swim lessons for my kids. So I can say with certainty that it all started on June 2, 2003.

I can't really remember my first headline show.

For me, Arik Sharon - I remember his courage and inspiration. I want to remember him the way he really was, not as an aging 80-year-old man living in bed helpless and unconscious.

I can remember exactly where I sat when my teacher first read Roald Dahl's 'James and the Giant Peach'.

My first memory in life was my last visit to Warm Springs.

It was 1995, the year Ben Crenshaw won the Masters. I was watching on TV, and I remember watching him sink his final putt on the 18th hole. He broke down in tears because his coach, Harvey Penick, had just died. I sat there watching with a box of Kleenex, wiping tears from my eyes and going, 'OK, this is crazy - I'm crying over golf!'

When I was little, my mum would take me to see the orchestra, tell me to close my eyes and think about the story the music was telling. I always spoke about colours. I'd talk about how purple the oboe was.

In school, I was Martha in 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?' I loved that.

I keep telling this story - different people, different places, different times - but always you, always me, always this story, because a story is a tight rope between two worlds.

Whenever you're in a relationship, you have that favorite song that reminds you of when you first got together or when you first kissed, and then every time you hear that song, it reminds you of that person.