Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.
We don__ even survive in the memories of the living. Science has destroyed that myth. Whenever we remember something, what we__e doing is remembering the last time we remembered it; our memory doesn__ go back to the original notch, the first one was cut, but to the last one. Human memory is virtual, like that of a computer. When we open a file we__e not opening it as it was when we first created it, but as it was the last time we used it. It is called hypercathexis and is our brain__ most sophisticated recourse when it comes to confronting pain.
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We don__ even survive in the memories of the living. Science has destroyed that myth. Whenever we remember something, what we__e doing is remembering the last time we remembered it; our memory doesn__ go back to the original notch, the first one was cut, but to the last one. Human memory is virtual, like that of a computer. When we open a file we__e not opening it as it was when we first created it, but as it was the last time we used it. It is called hypercathexis and is our brain__ most sophisticated recourse when it comes to confronting pain.
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He felt more crypts cracking open inside of him; the stench he smelled was not decayed bodies but decayed memories, and that was somehow worse.
There's no consciousness without senses and memories.
Without memories,there can be no good or evil. It will exist only indifference!
It was that evening, when my mother abdicated her authority, that marked the beginning, along with the slow death of my grandmother, of the decline of my will and of my health. Everything had been decided at the moment when, unable to bear the idea of waiting until the next day to set my lips on my mother's face, I had made my resolution, jumped out of bed, and gone, in my nightshirt, to stay by the window through which the moonlight came, until I heard M. Swann go. My parents having gone with him, I heard the garden gate open, the bell ring, the gate close again...
I knew then that I would devote every minute we had left together to making her happy, to repairing the pain I had caused her and returning to her what I never known how to give her. These pages will be our memory until she drows her last breath in my arms and I take her forever and escape at last to a place where neither heaven nor hell will ever be able to find us.