Memories Quotes - Page 216

They asked us to draw pictures of what we thought men and women look like naked and so I was like, "Get away, I'm doing my weird homework, drawing a naked man and woman." And I can't even draw. That's all I remember. I have no memory.

When I'm creating a character, it's a little bit like what my theater teachers used to tell me about Stanislavsky, like if you're using sense memory to do a scene - if you have to cry in a scene, you try to remember something in your life that made you cry and you use that in order to get the tears.

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.

For the eternity that Lux Lisbon looked at him, Trip Fontaine looked back, and the love he felt at that moment, truer than all subsequent loves because it never had to survive real life, still plagued him, even now in the desert, with his looks and health wasted. 'You never know what'll set the memory off,' he told us. 'A baby's face. A bell on a cat's collar. Anything.' They didn't exchange a single word. But in the weeks that followed, Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen.

Basically you come up with the fictional idea and you start writing that story, but then in order to write it and to make it seem real, you sometimes put your own memories in. Even if it's a character that's very different from you.

They're just memories now. Time to write them off.

I know that attaching memories to books may be going out of the world, but while it lasts, it's a strong record of your life.

Another riveting one was Sterling Sharpe - mainly because everyone told me he's horrible. Sterling was playing in a golf tournament in Lake Tahoe, and I drove up to see him (and others). I approached cautiously, figured he'd blow me off, etc. But, instead, he was fantastic. I mean, gracious, down to earth, funny, terrific memory, pinpoint insights. Could not have enjoyed my time with Sterling sharpe any more than I did. And how many journalists have ever said that before?

You don't really have to do the things that your character is doing. But us actors, we use something called sense memory. I've certainly been drunk before, and part of my job is to recall that without getting drunk.

Unhappiness is caused when we cannot let go of our memories.

Killing your rival doesn’t guarantee happiness. Sometimes it ruins any chance you have of it instead. Memories of dead men hold far more power than the annoyances of living ones.

Sometimes I think of you and I feel giddy. Memory makes me lightheaded, drunk on champagne. All the things we did. And if anyone has said this was the price I would have agreed to pay it. That surprises me; that with the hurt and the mess comes a shift of recognition. It was worth it. Love is worth it.

Nothing can be forgotten. Nothing can be lost. The universe itself is one vast memory system. Look back and you will find the beginnings of the world.

Perhaps the universe is a memory of our mistakes.

Love or hatred calls for self-surrender. He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories.

Last memory of my mother is her being dragged away

Imaginations blossom amidst memories. One judiciously separates them - but is there really any point in that? Doesn't truth suffer when one amputates it from its context of dreams?

In two weeks, despite these notes, I shall no longer believe in what I am experiencing now. One must leave behind a trace of this journey which memory forgets. One must, when this is impossible, write or draw without responding to the romantic solicitations of pain, without enjoying suffering like music, tieing a pen to one's foot if need be, helping the doctors who can learn nothing from laziness.

The grave is a crucible where memory is purified; we only remember a dead friend by those qualities which make him regretted.

Obligations, hatreds, injuries; what did I expect my memories to be? I was forgetting remorse. Now I have a complete past.

I would not know the thing I sought until I found it. It was both something within and something without myself. Within, it was like the buried memory of a name that will not come to the tongue for utterance.

The earliest memories I have from my childhood are of my mum getting ready to go on stage. I must have been about five and I would watch her vomiting backstage on opening night, and then the next minute she became Isabella, the Queen of Spain. At the time I remember thinking, 'What kind of schizophrenic job is this?' Now it all makes sense.

I'm interested in how memory and power come together in evil. These are obsessions of mine that appear throughout, like the theme of music. I know at some point or another one of my obsessions will emerge. You don't know how much I save in psychiatrist bills with this writing!

If i were to lose my memories, I would rely on music. There is so much of my story embedded in each.

My memory is not so good so my most memorable show is the last one I played. Songs are written with intention but they only emerge in the moment.