“How long have you been away from the country?" Laruja asked Ibarra."Almost seven years.""Then you have probably forgotten all about it.""Quite the contrary. Even if my country does seem to have forgotten me, I have always thought about it.”

“The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country.”

“My people have more know-how in dealing with money than any other people on earth. It is not just a stereotype. I have traveled the world, and everywhere I go, Jews are always represented within the wealthiest sector of people in their countries. During the last 2,000 years, Jews have been expelled or turned away from almost every country in the world, but over and over again, they have been able to re-settle, start from nothing, and build significant wealth in new lands.”

“And, Joey, if you ever want to know about the japonicas and the daisy fields it will be alright that you have forgotten because I will be able to tell you about how it felt to be feeling that way you cannot quite remember – that will be for the time when something happens years from now that reminds you of now.”

“I thought you had forgotten me.”“I have spent my life remembering you.”

“When You Have Forgotten Sunday: The Love Story-- And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday, And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday -- When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed, Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon Looking off down the long street To nowhere, Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why? And if-Monday-never-had-to-come— When you have forgotten that, I say, And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell, And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang; And how we finally went in to Sunday dinner, That is to say, went across the front room floor to the ink-spotted table in the southwest corner To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles Or chicken and rice And salad and rye bread and tea And chocolate chip cookies --I say, when you have forgotten that, When you have forgotten my little presentiment That the war would be over before they got to you; And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed, And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end Bright bedclothes, Then gently folded into each other— When you have, I say, forgotten all that, Then you may tell, Then I may believe You have forgotten me well.”