Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.

Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.

This free will business is a bit terrifying anyway. It's almost pleasanter to obey, and make the most of it.

All of us are mad. If it weren't for the fact every one of us is slightly abnormal, there wouldn't be any point in giving each person a separate name.

Murderers, in general, are people who are consistent, people who are obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

'Mad' is a term we use to describe a man who is obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

Who cares about great marks left behind? We have one life... just one. Our life. We have nothing else.

If we have anything kind to say, any tender sentiment to express, we feel a sense of shame.

There is always a certain peace in being what one is, in being that completely.

There is no forgiveness in nature.

I think the family is the place where the most ridiculous and least respectable things in the world go on.

The first temptation, upon meeting an old friend after many years, is always to - look the other way.

When you want to believe in something you also have to believe in everything thats necessary for believing in it.

Nobody is bound by any obligation unless it has first been freely accepted.

Sisterly love is, of all sentiments, the most abstract. Nature does not grant it any functions.

Every tiny part of us cries out against the idea of dying, and hopes to live forever.

Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.

Memories, imagination, old sentiments, and associations are more readily reached through the sense of smell than through any other channel.

You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories.

I am so excited to let fans in on how important my relationship with my family is to me. I hope to motivate mothers and daughters to build lifetimes of memories together and inspire kids around the world to live their dreams.

A stone is ingrained with geological and historical memories.

People always complain about their memories, never about their minds.

Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector's passion borders on the chaos of memories.

What makes old age hard to bear is not the failing of one's faculties, mental and physical, but the burden of one's memories.

Many instances exist of small children who seem to remember and describe their previous life in another body, another place, and with other people. These memories emerge usually shortly after these children begin to talk.

I never go to funerals. To me a person is dead when he breathes for the last time. After that, your memories should be personal.

Those who have known the famous are publicly debriefed of their memories, knowing as their own dusk falls that they will only be remembered for remembering someone else.

He had to deal all at once with the packed regrets and stifled memories of an inarticulate lifetime.

The loneliness is when you pick up and move, even if you are not originally from that place, and you have some memories that you want to embrace. Having a life in transit, I feel like you are always looking out the back window.

I had the great good fortune to interview Peggy Lee. Her memories of working with Walt Disney and his team were warm and upbeat.

Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.

Memories are doing funny things to us.

When I recall today my early youth, I should take the boy that I then was, with the exception of a few individual features, for a different person, were it not for the existence of the chain of memories.

The horrors of the Second World War, the chilling winds of the Cold War and the crushing weight of the Iron Curtain are little more than fading memories. Ideals that once commanded great loyalty are now taken for granted.

To reminisce with my old friends, a chance to share some memories, and play our songs again.

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined - to strengthen each other - to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.

The first thing I think of when I hear the name of Lucille Ball is a Hollywood legend. I have fond memories of growing up at her house, but she was a different person off the set than she was on the set.

I was in Woody Allen's Stardust Memories in 1980. It was only a bit part and I didn't get to speak but I felt that I was in a real movie and heading where I had always wanted to be.

Keep all special thoughts and memories for lifetimes to come. Share these keepsakes with others to inspire hope and build from the past, which can bridge to the future.

By interviewing at least one veteran, you can preserve memories that otherwise might be lost. My uncle was a downed fighter pilot and P.O.W. in World War II, and I am looking forward to recording his story for inclusion in the project.

I've always seen myself as one of those 'show people.' My earliest memories are wanting and needing to entertain people, like a gypsy traveler who goes from place to place, city to city, performing for audiences and reaching people.

Actors are good liars; writers are good liars with good memories.

One of my earliest memories... I knew three full verses of the Star Spangled Banner when I was seven or eight years old. And one of the nuns discovered this phenomenon and I was actually sent around from classroom to classroom to do the whole thing.

I acknowledge the privilege of being alive in a human body at this moment, endowed with senses, memories, emotions, thoughts, and the space of mind in its wisdom aspect.

I must apologise because I know all writers have memories of being on the outer because it's the children on the side of the playground who become the dangerous writers.

Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories.

Writing a book is a very lonely business. You are totally cut off from the rest of the world, submerged in your obsessions and memories.

My parents kept us sheltered from this world of Hollywood. I don't have any great memories of bouncing on Cary Grant's knee or something like that.

Human memory is a marvelous but fallacious instrument. The memories which lie within us are not carved in stone; not only do they tend to become erased as the years go by, but often they change, or even increase by incorporating extraneous features.