Faulty Memory Quotes

Believing there's no God means I can't really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That's good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around

There is simply too much injustice in the world. And too much remembering (of ancient grievances: Serbs, Irish) embitters. To make peace is to forget. To reconcile, it is necessary that memory be faulty and limited.

People change, they have faulty memories, gratitude for past generosities fades.

Songs are built by whimsy, faulty memory, and free association.

If the brain is elastic and memory is faulty, maybe all of these stories are wrong. Maybe it happened a different way altogether. Maybe I was happy and I just forget that now.

You will soon realize you are not so smart, and thanks to a plethora of cognitive biases, faulty heuristics, and common fallacies of thought, you are probably deluding yourself minute by minute just to cope with reality.

So much of the past in encapsulated in the odds and ends. Most of us discard more information about ourselves than we ever care to preserve. Our recollection of the past is not simply distorted by our faulty perception of events remembered but skewed by those forgotten. The memory is like twin orbiting stars, one visible, one dark, the trajectory of what's evident forever affected by the gravity of what's concealed.

99 percent of every beautiful thing you ever knew escaped and went back out into the world where you vaguely remembered it.

To make peace is to forget. To reconcile, it is necessary that memory be faulty and limited.

My personal theory is that one of you, me, is always faulty, like a toy purchased without the batteries. It is not until you have had time to go out and buy batteries, to put them in, to turn it on, that you realise it doesn't work the way that you wanted. Doesn't match what you hoped for. It never did. I am a bright, broken thing that he lost the receipt for.

Remembering is an ethical act, has ethical value in and of itself. Memory is, achingly, the only relation we can have with the dead. So the belief that remembering is an ethical act is deep in our natures as humans, who know we are going to die, and who mourn those who in the normal course of things die before us—grandparents, parents, teachers, and older friends. Heartlessness and amnesia seem to go together. But history gives contradictory signals about the value of remembering in the much longer span of a collective history. There is simply too much injustice in the world. And too much remembering (of ancient grievances: Serbs, Irish) embitters. To make peace is to forget. To reconcile, it is necessary that memory be faulty and limited. If the goal is having some space in which to live one’s own life, then it is desirable that the account of specific injustices dissolve into a more general understanding that human beings everywhere do terrible things to one another. *   *   * P

The collective memory is notoriously faulty, and much of the past sinks into the ocean of time to be drowned forever; but once in a while the waters part, allowing us to glimpse a flash of hidden treasure, if only for a moment.

Memory makes demands that you often can’t keep. Memory is faulty because it insists on filling in the blanks.

Memory seems as faulty, as misunderstood and misguided, as every other thought or spasm that passes through us.

thanks to a plethora of cognitive biases, faulty heuristics, and common fallacies of thought, you are probably deluding yourself minute by minute just to cope with reality.

So the reason for our cleanliness becomes apparent; cleanliness is a form of apprehension; our faulty racial memory is fathered by fear. Destiny and history are untidy; we fear memory of that disorder.

Ivanov had been a party member since 1902. Back then he had tried to write stories in the manner of Tolstoy, Chekhov, Gorky, or rather he had tried to plagiarize them without much success, which led him, after long reflection (a whole summer night), to the astute decision that he should write in the manner of Odoevsky and Lazhechnikov. Fifty percent Odoevsky and fifty percent Lazhecknikov. This went over well, in part because readers, their memories mostly faulty, had forgotten poor Odoevsky (1803-1869) and poor Lazhechnikov (1792-1869), who died the same year, and in part because literary criticism, as keen as ever, neither extrapolated nor made the connection nor noticed a thing.

Our memories are always faulty. They’re tainted by our emotions and perceptions. We filter everything we take in by our experiences. I mean, you said yourself a few minutes ago. Did I say what you thought I did or did you hear what you wanted me to say? It doesn’t make me a liar or you a fool. It’s just human nature. People see what they want to see and they hear what they need or want to hear.

Do you know where you were on Thursday evening at about eight o'clock last week, and who you were with, and what you were doing? Are you absolutely certain beyond any shadow of a doubt? Would you bet your life on it? If there is any possibility—no matter how slim or remote—that you could possibly be mistaken about such a thing, you are the kind of person who should never agree to talk to the police under just about any circumstances for as long as you live. And that includes practically everybody.

When I have suggested to my colleagues that we must take seriously Eichmann's repeated testimony to the effect that he learned from Heydrich in the fall of 1941 of Hitler's order for the physical destruction of the Jews, I have met with either embarrassed silence or open skepticism. How can I be so gullible? Don't I know that Eichmann's testimony is a useless conglomeration of faulty memories on the one hand and calculated lies for legal defense and self-justification on the other? From it we can learn nothing of value about what actually happened during the war, only about Eichmann's state of mind after the war. These are documents that reveal how Eichmann wished to be remembered, not what he did. -- Perpetrator Testimony: Another Look at Adolf Eichmann, pages 4-5

Our faulty memories and relatively short lifespans have made us unreliable witnesses. We are unable to truly grasp how much of the natural world has been altered and destroyed by our actions because the baseline shifts over time and generations have rendered us blind. Our standards have been lowered almost unnoticeably. What we might regard as pristine nature today is a shadow of what once existed. We can't seem to remember how things used to be.

This preoccupation with the classics was the happiest thing that could have befallen me. It gave me a standard of values. To live for a time close to great minds is the best kind of education. ... Faulty though my own practice has always been, I learned sound doctrine - the virtue of a clean, bare style, of simplicity, of a hard substance and an austere pattern. Above all the Calvinism of my boyhood was broadened, mellowed, and also confirmed. For if the classics widened my sense of the joy of life they also taught its littleness and transience; if they exalted the dignity of human nature they insisted upon its frailties and the aidos with which the temporal must regard the eternal. I lost then any chance of being a rebel, for I became profoundly conscious of the dominion of unalterable law. ... Indeed, I cannot imagine a more precious viaticum than the classics of Greece and Rome, or a happier fate than that one's youth should be intertwined with their world of clear, mellow lights, gracious images, and fruitful thoughts. They are especially valuable to those who believe that Time enshrines and does not destroy, and who do what I am attempting to do in these pages, and go back upon and interpret the past. No science or philosophy can give that colouring, for such provide a schematic, and not a living, breathing universe. And I do not think that the mastery of other literatures can give it in a like degree, for they do not furnish the same totality of life - a complete world recognisable as such, a humane world, yet one untouchable by decay and death...

Narrative horror, disgust. That's what drives him mad, I'm sure of it, what obsesses him. I've known other people with the same aversion, or awareness, and they weren't even famous, fame is not a deciding factor, there are many individuals who experience their life as if it were the material of some detailed report, and they inhabit that life pending its hypothetical or future plot. They don't give it much thought, it's just a way of experiencing things, companionable, in a way, as if there were always spectators or permanent witnesses, even of their most trivial goings-on and in the dullest of times. Perhaps it's a substitute for the old idea of the omnipresence of God, who saw every second of each of our lives, it was very flattering in a way, very comforting despite the implicit threat and punishment, and three or four generations aren't enough for Man to accept that his gruelling existence goes on without anyone ever observing or watching it, without anyone judging it or disapproving of it. And in truth there is always someone: a listener, a reader, a spectator, a witness, who can also double up as simultaneous narrator and actor: the individuals tell their stories to themselves, to each his own, they are the ones who peer in and look at and notice things on a daily basis, from the outside in a way; or, rather, from a false outside, from a generalised narcissism, sometimes known as "consciousness". That's why so few people can withstand mockery, humiliation, ridicule, the rush of blood to the face, a snub, that least of all ... I've known men like that, men who were nobody yet who had that same immense fear of their own history, of what might be told and what, therefore, they might tell too. Of their blotted, ugly history. But, I insist, the determining factor always comes from outside, from something external: all this has little to do with shame, regret, remorse, self-hatred although these might make a fleeting appearance at some point. These individuals only feel obliged to give a true account of their acts or omissions, good or bad, brave, contemptible, cowardly or generous, if other people (the majority, that is) know about them, and those acts or omissions are thus encorporated into what is known about them, that is, into their official portraits. It isn't really a matter of conscience, but of performance, of mirrors. One can easily cast doubt on what is reflected in mirrors, and believe that it was all illusory, wrap it up in a mist of diffuse or faulty memory and decide finally that it didn't happen and that there is no memory of it, because there is no memory of what did not take place. Then it will no longer torment them: some people have an extraordinary ability to convince themselves that what happened didn't happen and what didn't exist did.

Between 10 and 20 years to complete the course, from the first small alterations of character, tremors in the hands and face, emotional disturbance, including – most notably – sudden, uncontrollable alterations of mood, the helpless jerky dance-like movements, intellectual dilapidation, memory failure, agnosia, apraxia, dementia, total loss of muscular control rigidity sometimes, nightmarish hallucinations and a meaningless end. This is how the brilliant machinery of being is undone by the tiniest of faulty cogs, the insidious whisper of ruin, a single bad idea lodged in every cell, on every chromosome four.

Despite being faulty, despite the fact that our memory is biased by peaks and ends, it is still worth something. And maybe our happiness depends not only on what we can remember but also on what we are able to forget. Too much past can be paralyzing. We want to hold on to our happy memories, but we also want to be able to let go of the past, to live in the present and plan for the future.

The collective memory is notoriously faulty, and much of the past sinks into the ocean of time to be drowned forever; but once in a while the waters part, allowing us to glimpse a flash of hidden treasure, if only for a moment. Although history is rife with nuance, and we historians can never hope for unanimous agreement, I trust you will be able to concur with me, at least in this instance.

My chin rose stubbornly. “I didn’t do anything,” I said. “Not one thing.” The side of the Darkling’s mouth twitched, as if he were repressing a smile. His eyes slid over me from head to toe and back again. I felt like something strange and shiny, a curiosity that had washed up on a lake shore, that he might kick aside with his boot. “Is your memory as faulty as your friend’s?” he asked and bobbed his head toward Mal. “I don’t …” I faltered. What did I remember? Terror. Darkness. Pain. Mal’s blood. His life flowing out of him beneath my hands. The rage that filled me at the thought of my own helplessness.

Ranulf searched for something to distract him from what she was doing. Only one topic came to mind.Their kiss. "About this morning.Your memory is faulty." Concentrating,Bronwyn was just about to sever the final stitch. "How so?" she murmured. "I believe you kissed me." His nearness coupled with the unexpected reminder of their embrace caused her hand to quiver just as she sliced the last stitch, giving him a small scrape. "Ow! You did that on purpose!" Bronwyn jumped back. She was no longer nestled between his legs, but neither was she out of his reach. "I did no such thing. Besides,it is a small sratch, so stop disgracing yourself by acting so cowardly," she scolded, waving the sharp blade around as if it was another appendage. "Cowardly?" Ranulf bellowed, as he jerked the knife out of her hand. "You, angel, should be thanking me for being damn near to a saint! You have to be one of the most difficult women I have ever met." Bronwyn's chin popped up angrily, her deep blue eyes flashing. "I'm not difficult. You're the one yelling." She turned, grabbed his tunic, and threw it at him. "I'm done.You can get dressed now.

SHAME AS AN IDENTITY (THE INTERNALIZATION PROCESS) Any human emotion can become internalized. When internalized, an emotion stops functioning as an emotion and becomes an identity. Internalization involves at least three processes: 1. Identification with unreliable and shame-based models (faulty attachment bonding), which is the source of “carried” shame. 2. The trauma of abandonment, which severs the interpersonal bridge and the binding of feelings, needs and drives with shame. 3. The interconnection of memory imprints, which forms collages of shame.

For example, forgetting something in your short-term memory is a result of insufficient encoding, while forgetting something from your long-term memory is a result of faulty retrieval. This has been dubbed the forgetting curve by scientist Hermann Ebbinghaus.

Rather than defending the Gospels against their (self-evident) diversity, we should be asking ourselves why they are different at all. Why are there four versions of Jesus’s life out there? I can think of a few reasons why these differences exist. No one was taking notes as Jesus was talking, and so the stories got jumbled by the time they went from oral to written form. And we humans have faulty memories and “remember” events differently. But I think the main reason they differ so much is this. Each Gospel writer took it upon himself to shape—not simply report—the story of Jesus the way he saw fit, to present Jesus not as an academic exercise in historical accuracy, but as a way of encouraging and strengthening the community for which he was writing. To put it another way, each Gospel is its own unique retelling of the life of Jesus centered on the needs of each writer’s community of faith.

A world that can be explained by reasoning, however faulty is a familiar world. But in a universe that is suddenly deprived of illusions and of light, man feels a stranger. His is an irremediable exile, because he is deprived of memories of a lost homeland as much as he lacks the hope of a promised land to come”.

The development of the sugar industry was to have a significant impact on the politics and culture of the island, since it lead to a huge increase in Cuba's slave population. This in turn helped to fuel the growth of the island's white racism, fueled by the migrants from Santo Domingo and Louisiana. The image of the Haitian revolution, and the inflated memory of its excesses — echoed not just in Cuba, but in the United States and Latin America as well — was to hover over Cuba throughout the nineteenth century and beyond, a permanent intimation of what might happen to the white population if faulty political or administrative decisions were made. Many whites in Cuba felt that they lived permanently in the shadow of a slave rebellion on the Haitian model.

In other words, Nathan had Bathsheba play on David’s faulty memory.  A common coping mechanism for people with dementia or Alzheimer’s like symptoms is to claim to remember things that others indicate that they should remember. 

There is, for instance, the case of a retired art professor named David Mandell in the London suburb of Sudbury Hill. A 2003 British TV documentary profiled Mandell and his astonishing record of seemingly precognitive dreams, which he depicts the next morning in drawings or watercolors and then photographs under the calendar clock at his local bank to provide a time stamp and forestall accusations of fakery or faulty memory.

Hindsight bias adds to the ruckus caused by knowing the outcome, distorting your memory of what you knew at the time of the decision in two ways: You did know what was going to happen—swapping out your actual view at the time of the decision with a faulty memory of that view to conform to your postoutcome knowledge. You should (or could) have known what was going to happen—to the point of predictability or inevitability.

The genuinely charitable person gives generously from a sense that they too will stand in need of charity. Not right now, not over this, but in some other area. They know that self-righteousness is merely the result of a faulty memory, an inability to hold in mind – at moments when one is truly good and totally in the right – how often one has been deeply and definitively in the wrong.

Our memories are not simply faulty; they are faulty in favor of our ego.

The world of storytelling was changing dramatically around Enoch. The new visual communication called “cuneiform” was overtaking the traditional oral recitation of verse. Scribes created cuneiform as a codified physical expression of language, using utensils to make impressions on clay tablets. The scribes wanted to keep a tangible account of personal and public wealth that could not be challenged by verbal lies or faulty memory. Using handheld styluses pressed into the clay, they could list objects owned by the ruler and how many he possessed. It had started out as pictographs of cows, gold, wheat, wood, and other belongings. It had evolved into an abstract system of symbols that could be rapidly copied or communicated in a legal dispute.

Faulty memory and distraction are a particular danger in what engineers call all-or-none processes: whether running to the store to buy ingredients for a cake, preparing an airplane for takeoff, or evaluating a sick person in the hospital, if you miss just one key thing, you might as well not have made the effort at all. A

Why We Develop Faulty Mental Models of Ourselves as Learners It is very puzzling, in fact, that as lifelong users of our memories and learning capabilities, we do not end up with a more accurate mental model of how we learn, or fail to learn. Why is it, in short, that we are not educated by the “trials and errors of everyday living and learning” (R. A. Bjork, 1999, p. 455)? One consideration is that the functional architecture of how humans forget, remember, and learn is unlike the corresponding processes in man-made devices. Most of us do not, of course, understand the engineering details of how information is stored, added, lost, or overwritten in man-made devices, such as a computer or video recorder, but the functional architecture of such systems is simpler and more understandable than is the complex architecture of human learning and memory. To the extent, for example, that we do think of ourselves as working like such devices, we become prone to assuming that exposing ourselves to information and procedures will lead to storage (i.e., recording) of such information or procedures in our memories—that the information will write itself in one’s memory, so to speak.

Many cultures accept the faulty nature of memory. They know even the photograph only gets it halfway right. They believe there is only one way to bring the dead back to life, story.

The small circumstances of our lives continue on, scrambled by the inevitable decay of memory into lonely parcels - like misdirected love letters cherished more for what they represent than for what they were. Yet, despite our faulty memories, we do not achieve our escape. We remain imprisoned within these moments. And so we suffer.

If she can’t quit her job, or pay her bills, or argue with her husband, and cannot run from her colleagues, or classmates, or neighbors —she has no way out of her current situation so she ends up in a freeze state—or fatigue. Each time she encounters a similar scenario where she feels helpless, she falls into sleep mode, much like a computer— dissociating herself from the situation. She even unconsciously begins to use freeze, when she actually could fight or flee, because it has become her way of dealing with problems—imprinted in her memory.

As Dr. Sarno has shown, you do not need to change your personality to heal. The understanding of the TMS process and full belief are all that are normally needed to heal, but not always. Sometimes your life needs to be dissected and specific memories discharged to heal.

Who the hell are you?” groused the elderly version of Denzel Washington as he poured coffee into a bowl. She wasn’t sure if his memory was faulty or if Mr. Willicott just didn’t give a shit about anything.

Marijuana, meanwhile, produces a chemical called THC that attaches to the second class of receptors (discovered in 1988). These receptors were then deemed “cannabinoid receptors,” and the brain chemicals that attach to them were called endocannabinoids (for endogenous cannabinoids). Because molecules in these plants attach to these receptors in our brain and elsewhere, they can, in small amounts, enhance our lives. Marijuana can calm the nausea in chemotherapy patients and improve the appetite of AIDS patients. Morphine and other opioids, of course, numb pain and allow for surgery to take place. In the bowels, opioids can control diarrhea—as Paul Janssen knew when he invented loperamide. But in larger quantities, far beyond what the brain can produce, these molecules prod our brain receptors to excess. THC in marijuana overwhelms the cannabinoid receptors and produces ravenous hunger and faulty memory. The morphine molecule locks with the opioid receptors to produce euphoria and numb pain. Opioid receptors in our lungs govern breathing; too much morphine molecule shuts down breathing, which is how overdose victims die. The morphine molecule also produces constipation in addicts. In withdrawals, without the drug, addicts suffer diarrhea. (Naloxone, the overdose antidote, is occasionally used to treat constipation.) (Interestingly, the natural substances that make humans high actually evolved in their plants as pesticides, to keep predator insects from feasting on their leaves. Nicotine is a pesticide that tobacco naturally produces. So is caffeine in coffee, cocaine in the coca leaf, morphine in the opium poppy, and perhaps THC in marijuana as well.) In

thepsychchic chips clips i How often are we actually in control, I wondered? And how does the perception of being in control in situations where luck is queen actually play out in our decision making? How do people respond when placed in uncertain situations, with incomplete information? 13 Personal accountability, without the possibility of deflecting onto someone else, is key. 41 There’s never a default to anything. It’s always a matter of deliberation. 56 Erik: You have to have a clear thought process for every single hand. What do I know? What have I seen? How will that help me make an informed judgment about this hand? 74 … find the fold … 86 Erik: There’s nothing like getting in there and making a bunch of mistakes. 88 Erik: Pick your spots. 91 Erik: Have you ever heard the expression ‘snap fold’? A snap fold, you do it immediately. You’re thrilled to let it go. So. snap fold. This lets you shove with basically the same enthusiasm. It tells you which hands to go with when you have different amounts of big blinds. 98 There’s a false sense of security in passivity. You think that you can’t get into too much trouble—but really, every passive decision leads to a slow but steady loss of chips. And chances are, if I’m choosing those lines at the table, there are deeper issues at play. Who knows how many proverbial chips a default passivity has cost me throughout my life. How many times have I walked away from situations because of someone else's show of strength, when I really shouldn't have. How many times I've passively stayed in a situation, eventually letting it get the better of me, instead of actively taking control and turning things around. Hanging back only seems like an easy solution. In truth, it can be the seed of far bigger problems. 100-101 Gambler's fallacy -- the faulty idea that probability has a memory. 107 Frank Lantz, NYU Game Center, former poker player: Part of what I get out of a game is being confronted with reality in a way that is not accommodating to my incorrect preconceptions. 109 Only play within your bankroll. 126 Re: Ladies Event: Yes, I completely understand the intention, but somehow, segregating women into a separate player pool, as if admitting that they can’t compete in an open player pool, feels equal parts degrading and demoralizing. … if I’m known as anything in this game, I want to be known as a good poker player, not a good female player. No modifiers need apply. 127 Erik: Bad beats are a really bad mental habit. You don’t want to ever dwell on them. It doesn’t help you become a better player. It’s like dumping your garbage on someone else’s lawn. It just stinks.” 132-33 No bad beats. Forget they ever happened. 136 As W H Auden told an interviewer, Webster Schott, in a 1970 conversation: "Language is the mother, not the handmaiden of thought; words will tell you things you never thought or felt before.” The language we use becomes our mental habits—and our mental habits determine how we learn, how we grow, what we become. It’s not just a question of semantics: telling bad beats stories matters. Our thinking about luck has real consequences in terms of our emotional well-being, our decisions and the way we implicitly view the world and our role in it. 133

I wanted my pain to be gone, now—so I modified my strategy. Each time I would move and get hit by pain, or run and “get hit” with pain, or get up in the morning and be in pain, I would punish my inner self severely by running longer and lifting more weights. I can now see that this punishment I was putting myself through was my way of letting out my frustration and guilt slowly. It was psychologically safer than letting all that repressed energy out at once—for me, and for those around me. I now realize I was discharging a freeze-survival response from my system, finishing a last act of survival, by running from a situation where I previously felt powerless. Running became, metaphorically, running. When we feel helpless we can flee, fight, or freeze to survive the situation. I chose to freeze instead of fighting or fleeing, which is a dangerous thing to do because freezing never allows for the resolution of the trauma—it freezes the trauma in your system, encoding a very dangerous state of existence, disrupting autonomic function. If you don’t fight or flee under trauma, you lock the memory of the event into your system because you never “escaped” the situation in your mind.

Early trauma—fear or separation anxiety—met with a freeze response due to helplessness—disrupts the ANS in a manner that causes it to dramatically malfunction throughout life by over-functioning or under- functioning—if the corrupted memories are never purged, or discharged. Infant separation trauma can lead to over-sensitization, to colitis, skin problems, allergies, mitral valve prolapse, irritable bladder, ulcers, asthma, immune problems, and of course pain.

Cast-Off Material The unlikely selection of Gideon, not to mention his stunning victory, sets a pattern that will be repeated throughout the book of Judges. At a time when women are regarded as second-class citizens (see 9:54; 19:24), God chooses Deborah to lead his people. Jephthah, another judge whom God taps for leadership, has been a social outcast, the leader of a gang of outlaws. Throughout the Bible, in fact, God uses cast-off material. The tribe of Israel itself—a slave people, uncultured, with a short memory for God’s kindness—was not chosen for any of its impressive qualities. Time and again the Israelites prove themselves faulty, as do their leaders. God does not seek the most outwardly capable people nor the most naturally “good.” From unlikely material, God does great things so the world can see that the glory belongs to God and God alone. Paul took up this theme when he wrote, over a thousand years later, “Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. Therefore, as it is written: ‘Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord’” (1 Corinthians 1:26–27, 31).

Faulty memory and distraction are a particular danger in what engineers call all-or-none processes: whether running to the store to buy ingredients for a cake, preparing an airplane for takeoff, or evaluating a sick person in the hospital, if you miss just one key thing, you might as well not have made the effort at all.

Checklists provide a safeguard against failure arising from faulty memory, distractions, and intentionally skipped steps.

He has several tactics he uses most often in his attacks on her mind: exaggerated likelihood, catastrophic thinking, underestimated ability, faulty memory, and perpetual questions. Worry has no memory and assumes the worst

It all started, like so many family stories, with a plausible fiction - honest mistake, faulty memory, bit of embroidered imagination that got repeated so many times it became family truth.

MY MOTHER’S PHLOX To send this to you toward the end of summer, I was forced to rebuild my desktop. Not in the old-fashioned way, With saw and eye laid alongside the board With some rue in my fingers, But I wanted to create phlox. Although, god knows, it can’t be done In three dimensions, as the earth Has so easily done it, but who can compete With the earth? No, I wanted only the words And they have lost themselves in the fields Or along the gravel road. It’s just as well. (Floks) n. pl. various plants of the genus Phlox, Having opposite leaves and flowers, With variously colored salverform corolla. Over the years the phlox have spread Even into the fields beyond the barn, Into the edge of the woods, inventions Of themselves in endless designs… They exhale their faint perfume summer after summer, And summer after summer it was my nightlong Intoxicant. It was my potion, my ragged butterfly, My faulty memory of my mother Who was the same age then, as I am now. As then, I was the same age you are now, When my mother planted these phlox in my garden. I’m sending them to you by UPS, Wrapped in plastic in a proper box. Take them out and stick them in water; Dig a good bed and spread the roots. They need almost no care. They cast their seed; they thrive on neglect. Later, they may change like the faces you love, Ravaged and ravishing from year to year.

Gambler's fallacy -- the faulty idea that probability has a memory

Allow me to refresh your obviously faulty memories. I allow you to stay within my front garden on the understanding that you defend the house against all intruders, except the ones I have described, on numerous occasions. Torch-bearing mobs?" "Eat them!" chorused the criminally insane fey of Cabal's garden, a tribe whose stature was inversely proportional to their malevolence. "Correct. The postman?" "Eat him!" they cried joyfully. "No!" snapped Cabal. "You let the postman by!" "Oops," said the garden. There was some small shuffling while they hid a peaked cap behind a rosebush.

girls with faulty memory ask lots of questions.

There are so many ways a narrator can be unreliable. There is the consciously deceptive narrator, lying to the reader, yet so many facets even within that: a teacher toning down complexity for children, a statesman fudging facts to make a flattering autobiography, an apologist hiding the bad sides of a sect, a murderer concealing evidence until the grand reveal. There are unconscious lies: the child who repeats the toned-down version for another, the scholar trusting the fudged autobiography, the initiate who doesn’t know the bad sides of a sect, a murderer who has concealed who did it even from himself. And without lies, a narrator can still deceive. He can be biased, valorizing, and demonizing. He can be ignorant, not knowing to call that stiff white bird an airplane, or that colored cloth a flag. He can be ignorant of the true significance of events, telling or writing before some great discovery, or after one, which distorts his perspective, focus, and omissions. He can be deceived: by his education, by propaganda, by his senses, by his friends. He can be insane. He can be unaware that he’s insane, or know he is insane in some ways yet manifest other different insanities. He can be too credulous, or not credulous enough, mistaking illusions for true miracles, or miracles for illusions. He can have a faulty memory—oh, how many ways a narrator can have a faulty memory!

Nearly three out of four convictions that were later reversed through DNA evidence with the help of the US nonprofit group the Innocence Project were based on faulty eyewitness identification.