forgetting Quotes
When men do not forget what can be forgotten but forget what cannot be forgotten - that may be called true forgetting.
Sometimes one has to know something many times over. Sometimes one forgets, and then remembers. And then forgets, and then remembers. And then forgets again.
When I say I'm going to forget you I know it's impossible to forget someone I once knew. What I want is to erase you from my thoughts and purge you from my memories. I'm saying it's what I wish for, not what is or could ever be.
You can forget the past, but something should be left in your mine to not forget yourself.
We deliberately forget because forgetting is a blessing. On both an emotional level and a spiritual level, forgetting is a natural part of the human experience and a natural function of the human brain. It is a feature, not a bug, one that saves us from being owned by our memories. Can a world that never forgets be a world that truly forgives?
The reason I might forget something is because my mind is like a computer. I have so much useless stuff stored up in there, that when I forget to clean out my Mind's Cache, it has no room for new information. Like wearing pants!
Sometimes... I feel like I can't picture him anymore. Like I'm forgetting him... I forget the way he looked when he smiled. The sound of his voice. The way his hand felt wrapped around mine. And it hurts so badly, Jack. It hurts so fucking bad. Sometimes, it's so painful I can't breathe. Like the pain just sucks all of the air out of me... until there's nothing left. I don't want to forget. I really don't. But I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make it stop. It hurts to remember. But it hurts even more to forget.
We must forget in order to remain present, forget in order not to die, forget in order to remain faithful.
The important thing for the remembering author is not what he experienced, but the weaving of his memory, the Penelope work of recollection. Or should one call it, rather, the Penelope work of forgetting? ... And is not his work of spontaneous recollection, in which remembrance is the woof and forgetting the warp, a counterpart to Penelope's work rather than its likeness? For here the day unravels what the night has woven. When we awake each morning, we hold in our hands, usually weakly and loosely, but a few fringes of the tapestry of a lived life, as loomed for us by forgetting. However, with our purposeful activity and, even more, our purposive remembering each day unravels the web and the ornaments of forgetting.
The day we forget the horror, Sam, we will repeat it. Never forget your past. It will make you less human, less than human.
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