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Stephen King Quotes about Memories

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Time's the thief of memory

Time's the thief of memory

Memories, Thieves, Deschain

Robin Furth, Stephen King (2006). “Stephen King's The Dark Tower: The Complete Concordance”, p.508, Simon and Schuster

Writers remember everything...especially the hurts. Strip a writer to the buff, point to the scars, and he'll tell you the story of each small one. From the big ones you get novels. A little talent is a nice thing to have if you want to be a writer, but the only real requirement is the ability to remember the story of every scar. Art consists of the persistence of memory.

Art, Hurt, Memories

May be she’ll learn something about what death really is, which is where the pain stops and the good memories begin. Not the end of life but the end of pain.

Pain, Memories, May

Stephen King (2014). “Pet Sematary”, p.164, Simon and Schuster

Memories are contrary things; if you quit chasing them and turn your back, they often return on their own.

Memories, Return, Quitting

She knew with suddeness and ease that this moment would be with her always, within hand's reach of memory. She doubted if they all sensed it - they had seen the world - but even George was silent for a minute as they looked, and the scene, the smell, even the sound of the band playing a faintly recognisable movie theme, was locked forever in her, and she was at peace.

Memories, Hands, Smell

Passing time adds false memories and modifies real ones.

Memories, Real, Add

Stephen King (2014). “Joyland”, p.73, Titan Books

It's a little place on the Pacific Ocean. You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific? They say it has no memory. That's where I want to live the rest of my life. A warm place with no memory.

Memories, Ocean, Redemption

I believe that the combination of pencil and memory creates a kind of practical magic, and magic is dangerous.

Memories, Believe, Magic

Stephen King (2016). “Night Journey”, p.5, Simon and Schuster

So do we pass the ghosts that haunt us later in our lives; they sit undramatically by the roadside like poor beggars, and we see them only from the corners of our eyes, if we see them at all. The idea that they have been waiting there for us rarely crosses our minds. Yet they do wait, and when we have passed, they gather up their bundles of memory and fall in behind, treading in our footsteps and catching up, little by little.

Memories, Fall, Eye

Stephen King (2016). “The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass”, p.445, Simon and Schuster

The wind makes you ache is some place that is deeper than your bones. It may be that it touches something old in the human soul, a chord of race memory that says Migrate or die - migrate or die.

Memories, Race, Wind

Stephen King (2008). “'Salem's Lot”, p.200, Anchor

It was how wars really ended, Dieffenbaker supposed -- not at truce tables but in cancer wards and office cafeterias and traffic jams. Wars died one tiny piece at a time, each piece something that fell like a memory, each lost like an echo that fades in winding hills. In the end even war ran up the white flag. Or so he hoped. He hoped that in the end even war surrendered.

Memories, War, Cancer

The loss of memory isn't always the problem; sometimes--maybe even often--it's the solution.

Memories, Loss, Problem

Stephen King (2008). “Duma Key: A Novel”, p.331, Simon and Schuster

A person's memory is everything, really. Memory is identity. It's you.

Memories, Identity, Persons

Stephen King (2008). “Duma Key: A Novel”, p.442, Simon and Schuster

Memory is the basis of every journey.

Memories, Journey, Bases

Stephen King (2001). “Dreamcatcher: A Novel”, p.268, Simon and Schuster

Our memories have voices, too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark.

Memories, Dark, Voice

Stephen King (2008). “Duma Key: A Novel”, p.478, Simon and Schuster

I realized the shells were talking in a voice I recognized. I should have; it was my own. Had I always known that? I suppose I had. On some level, unless we're mad, I think most of us know the various voices of our own imaginations. And of our memories, of course. They have voices, too. Ask anyone who has ever lost a limb or a child or a long-cherished dream. Ask anyone who blames himself for a bad decision, usually made in a raw instant (an instant that is most commonly red). Our memories have voices, too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark.

Dream, Memories, Children

Stephen King (2008). “Duma Key: A Novel”, p.478, Simon and Schuster

The color white is the absence of memory.

Memories, Color White, Absence

The one thing about kids is that you never really know exactly what they're thinking or how they're seeing. After writing about kids, which is a little bit like putting the experience under a magnifying glass, you realize you have no idea how you thought as a kid. I've come to the conclusion that most of the things that we remember about our childhood are lies. We all have memories that stand out from when we were kids, but they're really just snapshots. You can't remember how you reacted because your whole head is different when you stand aside.

Memories, Lying, Kids

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