Memory is the mother of all wisdom.
In memory everything seems to happen to music.
Memory ... is the diary that we all carry about with us.
Memory, however sad, is the best and purest link between this world and a better.
Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory.
Ah what agony is that, what despair, when the tomb of memory is rent open and the ghosts of his old life comes forth to scourge him!
No matter how far we travel, the memories will follow in the baggage car.
Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.
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