Institutional Memory Quotes

While one was an undergraduate, one could feel virtuous and indignant at the vices of Oxford, at least at those which one did not indulge in, particularly at the flunkeyism and money-worship which are our most prevalent and disgraceful sins. But when one is a fellow it is quite another affair. They become a sore burthen then, enough to break one's heart. ~ Thomas Hughes

He had acquired all the composed and self-reliant look which is so remarkable in a good non-commissioned officer. ~ Thomas Hughes

I'm in a mainline church, I'm very aware, especially as I move through community churches and new-start churches that are making real efforts not to associate themselves with traditional denominations - very often they have no history. They have no institutional memory. ~ Barbara Brown Taylor

The author chuckles at the resistance to using a prepared, written liturgy in prayer. He compares it to being unwilling to dress in any clothing we did not make ourselves, or being unwilling to drive a car we did not construct entirely by ourselves. ~ N. T. Wright

Institutional memory is important in any organization, but so are fresh ideas. ~ Marianne Williamson

Memory is a strange combination of those things we work to remember and the things we can never forget ~ Elena Hartwell

CD stores have the disadvantage of an expensive inventory, but digital bookshops would need no such thing: they could write copies at the time of sale on to memory sticks, and sell you one if you forgot your own. ~ Richard Stallman

True, more than a half of the green graves in the Grafton cemetery are marked "Unknown," and sometimes it occurs that one thinks of the contradiction involved in "honoring the memory" of him of whom no memory remains to honor; but the attempt seems to do no great harm to the living, even to the logical. ~ Ambrose Bierce

In all honesty, I don't envy you the possession of this power over memory, nor do I admire you. Because humans are usually completely unconcerned with the memories of other creatures. Human existence involves the willful destruction of the existential memories of other creatures and of your own memories as well. No life can survive without other lives, with the ecological memories of other living creatures have, memories of the environments in which the live. People don't realize they need to rely on the memories of other organisms to survive. You think that flowers bloom in colorful profusion just to please your eyes. That a wild boar exists just to provide meat for your table. That a fish takes the bait just for you sake. That only you can mourn. That a stone falling into a gorge is of no significance. That a sambar deer, its head bent low to sip at a creek is not a revelation . . . When in fact the finest movement of any organism represents a change in an ecosystem." The man with the compound eyes takes a deep sign and says: "But if you were any different you wouldn't be human. ~ Wu Ming-Yi

The washing machine's rhythm was like a giant heartbeat, and the rush of its waters was what the unborn hear- our last memory of peace. ~ Thomas Harris

My memory loves you ... it asks about you all the time. ~ Jonathan Carroll

SCORPIUS: "We send a memory - like a Pensieve - stand over him and send a message, hope he reaches for the memory at exactly the right moment. I mean, it's unlikely, but . . . Stand over the baby - and just repeatedly shout HELP. HELP. HELP. I mean, it might traumatize the baby slightly."
ALBUS: "Only slightly. ~ J.K. Rowling

Love was slow, creeping poison, loge was treacherous and insincere, love was a veil thrown over the misery of the world, love was sticky and indigestible, it was a mirror in which one could be what one was not, it was a spectre that spread hope where hope had long since dies, it was a hiding place where people thought they found refuge and ultimately found only themselves, it was a vague memory of another love, it was the possibility of a salvation that was ultimately equivalent to a coup de grace, it was a war without victors, it was a precious jewel amid broken fragments you cut yourself on: yes, Brilka, in those days that was love. ~ Nino Haratischwili

When the voice of your friend or the page of your book sinks into democratic equality with the pattern of the wallpaper, the feel of your clothes, your memory of last night, and the noises from the road, you are falling asleep. The highly selective consciousness enjoyed by fully alert men, with all its builded sentiments and consecrated ideals, has as much to be called real as the drowsy chaos, and more. ~ C.S. Lewis

Cruelty is seldom forgotten. You feel it as a child. Somebody takes away your toy or thoughtlessly kicks over your sand castle. A beautiful boy walks into your life, sees something he doesn't like or doesn't understand, and painstakingly endeavours to make you feel how much he hates you, to be constantly aware of the flaws that provoke that hatred. And then you grow older and wiser, but you don't forget the cruelty. You can't forget it, because there is nothing stronger, nothing more palpable in the human brain than the memory of mistreatment. ~ L. H. Cosway

If I indulge myself and surrender to memory, I can still feel the knot of excitement that gripped me as I turned the corner into Rue Mimosas, looking for the house of Rene Magritte. It was August, 1965. I was 33 years old and about to meet the man whose profound and witty surrealist paintings had contradicted my assumptions about photography. ~ Duane Michals

At some point, a wave of repressed emotion broke through my armor, demanding expression and release. As I plumbed the depths of my despair, I shed one layer of pain after another. My inner world was like a series of reservoirs, each holding a different wave of emotional memory behind them. When one reservoir burst, another soon appeared. This phase went on for many months - the first of many essential release phases. ~ Jeff Brown

Habit: the body's memory. ~ Marty Rubin

It's as if i want all this to have happened already. I want the memory of it, but the doing it is hard for me. ~ Leah Carroll

The people that many saw as 'social outsiders'; that I had seen as 'freaks'. I started to realize that it wasn't about what they had in their bank account but the true value was in the experiences they gained. Their true bank accounts, their memory banks, were crammed high with adventures and experiences, with life events and huge doses of unapologetic fun. ~ Alastair Macartney

I grew up around the Luxembourg Gardens, so I guess that is my best memory. ~ Emmanuelle Seigner

Power politics existed before Machiavelli was ever heard of; it will exist long after his name is only a faint memory. What he did, like Harvey, was to recognize its existence and subject it to scientific study. ~ Max Lerner

The truth is, today's intense realities are just tomorrow's memories. ~ Lili Naghdi

But kind of like when you move something on a wall after it's been there for a long time, and its place is bright but everything around it is faded - that's how I feel about her. She wasn't there very long, but when she left, everything around her memory sort of dimmed. ~ Laura Miller

It is human life. We are blown upon the world; we float buoyantly upon the summer air a little while, complacently showing off our grace of form and our dainty iridescent colors; then we vanish with a little puff, leaving nothing behind but a memory - and sometimes not even that. I suppose that at those solemn times when we wake in the deeps of the night and reflect, there is not one of us who is not willing to confess that he is really only a soap-bubble, and as little worth the making. ~ Mark Twain

Dont waste time to hate fake people, they dont deserve to be a part of your memory...chill n get boozed in the joy of having good 1s "Happy Friendship Day".. ~ -sarvesh

How long lived our memory of you when you are gone? Because in the end, that is the only measure. In the end, when life's last flickers fade, all that remains is memory. Richness, in the final measure, is not weighed in gold coins, but in the number of people you have touched, the tears of those who mourn your passing, and the fond remembrances of those who continue to celebrate your life. - Drizzt Do'Urden ~ R.A. Salvatore

If we lose our culture, we lose our memory. ~ Robert Wilson

He is silent, savoring this promise and committing it to memory so he can think about it in moments when he needs it most. ~ Hanya Yanagihara

Since we're keeping it primal, you smell good," he observed.
"It's called a shower ... ," I began automatically, then trailed off. My memory snagged, taken aback by a compelling and forceful sense of undue familiarity. "Soap, shampoo, hot water," I added, almost as an afterthought.
"Naked. I know the drill," Jev said, something unreadeble passing over his eyes. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

We paw at nostalgia even before we hit twenty, wanting a holiday that never happened, a wholesomeness that could not survive in the wild. ~ Thomm Quackenbush

Here's what I think: when you're born, you're assigned a brain like you're assigned a desk, a nice desk, with plenty of pigeonholes and drawers and secret compartments. At the start, it's empty, and then you spend your life filling it up. You're the only one who understands the filing system, you amass some clutter, sure, but somehow it works: you're asked the capital of Oregon, and you say Salem; you want to remember your first-grade teacher's name, and there it is, Miss Fox. Then suddenly you're old, and though everything's still in your brain, it's crammed so tight that when you try to remember the name of the guy who does the upkeep on your lawn, your first childhood crush comes fluttering out, or the persistent smell of tomato soup in a certain Des Moines neighborhood. ~ Elizabeth McCracken

But the main reason was that waking her would've meant telling her good-bye, and telling someone good-bye when you're planning on walking into hell would've felt kind of…final.
It was the same reason I hadn't gone into the hut to find Mom, and why I'd skirted around Archer's tent. I'd been nearly to the shore when I'd heard him softly call, "Mercer."
Kneeling in the doorway of his tent, his hair a mess, his Hex Hall uniform ridiculously wrinkled, he'd nearly broken my heart. And when I ran to him as soundlessly as I could and practically dove on top of him, I'd told myself that our kiss was just your normal boyfriend/girlfriend saying good morning thing. Even when he pulled me inside, the tent warm and cozy and smelling like him, I hadn't let myself think that might be the last time I'd see him.
And when he'd pulled me closer and murmured, "Mercer, I love-" I had covered his mouth with my hand.
"Don't say that. Not now. Say it sometime when there is absolutely no chance of death on the horizon, okay?"
He mumbled something beneath my palm, and I rolled my eyes as I pulled it away from his mouth. He dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose. "All I was going to say was that I love this tent you made for me. But I guess I can tell you again later. When you get back."
Curling my hand around the back of his neck, I'd pulled him down to me. "You better."
A blush creeping up my neck from the memory, I swung my gaze away from his tent and back toward th ~ Rachel Hawkins

Although Arin wasn't touching her, he was touching no living part of her, it felt as if a fine net had been cast over Kestrel, one that hazed her vision and shimmered against her skin.
"There," he said.
Kestrel watched her reflection lift a hand to her head. She couldn't think of what to say. Arin had drawn back, hands in his pockets. But his eyes held hers in the mirror, and his face had softened, like when she had played the piano for him. She said, "How…?"
He smiled. "How did a blacksmith pick up such an unexpected skill?"
"Well, yes."
"My older sister used to make me do this when I was little."
Kestrel almost asked where Arin's sister was now, then imagined the worst. She saw Arin watch her imagine it, and saw from his expression that the worst was true. Yet his smile didn't fade. "I hated it, of course," he said. "The way she ordered me around. The way I let her. But now…it's a nice memory."
She rose and faced Arin. The chair stood between them, and she wasn't sure whether she was grateful for that barrier or not.
"Kestrel, if you must go to the ball, take me with you."
"I don't understand you," she said, frustrated. "I don't understand what you say, how you change, how you act one way and then come here and act another."
"I don't always understand myself either. But I know I want to go with you tonight."
Kestrel let the words echo in her mind. There had been a supple strength to his voice. An unconscious melody. Kes ~ Marie Rutkoski

My problem is that while other people are reading fifty books I'm reading one book fifty times. I only stop when at the bottom of page 20, say, I realise I can recite pages 21 and 22 from memory. Then I put the book away for a few years. ~ Helene Hanff

Of her own experience she had no memory of the thing happening; but in her instinct, which was the experience of all mothers of wolves, there lurked a memory of fathers that had eaten their new-born and helpless progeny. ~ Jack London

As long as the mind is there, your body and your world are there. Your world is mind-made, subjective, enclosed within the mind, fragmentary, temporary, personal, hanging on the thread of memory. ~ Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

I knew that my husband was a song that I had forgotten the words to and I was a fuzzy photograph of someone he used to love. ~ Catherine Lacey

The mind has a complex life that can seem quite autonomous - dreams, obsessions, unwilled memory are all instances of this. ~ Marilynne Robinson

The first time I saw your father, I'd just come home from the hunt. The forests of Calydon are thick with game, but the deer are so clever that it was the first time I'd managed to bring one down. I was so proud of what I'd done that I insisted on carrying the buck into the throne room myself and dropped it at my father's feet before I noticed we had a guest." She smiled at the memory.
"I'll bet Father thought you were Artemis herself," I said.
That made my mother laugh. "Not Artemis. You know how he feels about her. But he did say he mistook me for one of her huntress nymphs. That was just before he told me he had to marry me or die."
I made a face. "Father said that?"
"Men say many things when they want to win a woman. Whether or not they mean what they say…" She shrugged. "Your father meant it. Poor soul, it seemed like he would die, because none of my father's advisers thought I should marry him. Tyndareus came to Calydon as a landless exile; his brother had stolen his kingdom."
The story of Father's early trouble and final triumph was so well known that the palace stones could tell it. "Did you come to Sparta to marry him after he won back his crown?" I asked. "Or did he have to go back to Calydon for you?"
"Are you asking because you want to know, or because you want to distract me from what we need to talk about? ~ Esther M. Friesner

She holds within her the memory of this journey, drawn out for her like a constellation in the darkness, each element of the landscape connecting her along a line that is her past. Carter may want to come here now, but she's the one who belongs, on this road, under this piece of sky. ~ Kirsty Gunn

You can overcome the things that are done to you, but you cannot escape the things that you have done.
Here is the truth: It matters, what you do at war. It matters more than you ever want to know. Because countries, like people, have collective consciences and memories and souls, and the violence we deliver in the name of our nation is pooled like sickly tar at the bottom of who we are. The soldiers who don't die for us come home again. They bring with them the killers they became on our national behalf, and sit with their polluted memories and broken emotions in our homes and schools and temples. We may wish it were not so, but action amounts to identity. We become what we do.You can tell yourself all the stories you want, but you can't leave your actions over there. You can't build a wall and expect to live on the other side of memory. All of the poison seeps back into our soil. ~ Megan K. Stack

The problem with romance is the occlusion. The tunnel vision, drawing your every gaze downstream, into those other eyes, the flotsam of your better self, your clearer self, along for the ride. It doesn't matter what secrets swirl and bob in the waters beneath you, as you float toward that lady at Delphi, who, you imagined, reading Mythology, must have been beautiful. It doesn't matter that Charybdis, with no body, with no form, with only a mouth-as-being, couldn't have been evil, because she lacked the brain for it. It doesn't matter that following the logical course of events, the natural course, always disadvantages someone else, because love, after all, is simply a competition for resources, made infinitely complex and unknowable when squared and cubed and raised to every other emotional exponent - and then layered with sex and society and a bad memory for what those resources were in the first place. ~ Darin Bradley

Beauty could not love you back. People were not what they seemed and certainly not what they said. Madness was contagious. Memory served melancholy. The medieval was not so bad. Gravity was a form of nostalgia. There could be virtue in satirizing virtue. Dwight Eisenhower and Werner von Braun had the exact same mouths. No one loved a loser until he completely lost. The capital of Burma was Rangoon. ~ Lorrie Moore

For most Black people there is still poverty and desperation. The Ghettos still exist, and the proportion of Blacks in prison is still much greater than Whites. Today, there is less overt racism, but the economic injustices create an "institutional racism" which exists even while more Blacks are in high places, such as Condoleeza Rice in Bush's Administration and Obama running for President. ~ Howard Zinn