“A man is made of memories. It is all we are. Captured moments, the smell of a place, scenes played out time and again on a small stage. We are memories, strung on storylines--the tales we tell ourselves about ourselves, falling through our lives into tomorrow.”
“What is a man but the sum of his memories? We are the stories we live! The tales we tell ourselves!”
“Memory is all we are. Moments and feelings, captured in amber, strung on filaments of reason. Take a man’s memories and you take all of him. Chip away a memory at a time and you destroy him as surely as if you hammered nail after nail through his skull.”
“We scatter small parts of ourselves as we journey through life, pieces that are stored by others and about which we may have no memory.”
“Memory is not a storage place but a story we tell ourselves in retrospect. As such, it is made of storytelling materials: embroidery and forgery, perplexity and urgency, revelation and darkness.”
“The tales we tell ourselves about ourselves makes us who we are.”