The selective memory isn't selective enough.

The selective memory isn't selective enough.

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago.

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago.

Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
read more

Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
And God within far Heaven refuse to light
The consolation of the dawn for me,--
Between the shadowy burns of Heaven and Hell,
It is enough love leaves my soul to dwell
With memory.

Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet read more

Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not good enough to recollect how often we have told it to the same person?

The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones read more

The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant.

Far from our eyes th' Enchanting Objects set,
Advantage by the friendly Distance get.

Far from our eyes th' Enchanting Objects set,
Advantage by the friendly Distance get.

The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, read more

The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And all that thou hast done for me!

It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe read more

It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe --though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.

Don't you remember, sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown;
Who wept with read more

Don't you remember, sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown;
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
And trembl'd with fear at your frown!