“I thought his memory was like the other memories of the dead that accumulate in every man's life,—a vague impress on the brain of shadows that had fallen on it in their swift and final passage. . .”
“I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates ...”
“Always. At every moment, asleep and awake, during the most sublime and most abject moments, Amaranta thought of Rebeca, because solitude had made a selection in her memory and had burned the dimming piles of nostalgic waste that life had accumulated in her heart, and had purified, magnified, and eternalized the others, the most bitter ones.”
“Memory heaps dead leaves on corpse-like deeds, from under which they do but vaguely offend the sense.”
“I didnt tell him I'd thought of him every day. That even when every other memory had faded, he never left. - Nikki”
“Every man's memory is his private literature.”