Memories Delete Quotes

Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.

I remember every word ever said to me." That was a lie. Who would want that? Most of it I delete from permanent memory.

And I have no control over which yesterdays I keep and which ones get deleted. This disease will not be bargained with. I can't offer it the names of the US presidents in exchange for the names of my children. I can't give it the names of state capitals and keep the memories of my husband. ...My yesterdays are disappearing, and my tomorrows are uncertain, so what do I live for? I live for each day. I live in the moment. Some tomorrow soon, I'll forget that I stood before you and gave this speech. But just because I'll forget it some tomorrow doesn't mean that I didn't live every second of it today. I will forget today, but that doesn't mean that today doesn't matter.

Memory sometimes makes merciful deletions.

The mind replays what the heart can't delete.

The recollections of an older man are different from those of a younger man. What seemed vital at forty may lose its significance at seventy. We manufacture stories, after all, from the fleeting sensory material that bombards us at every instant, a fragmented series of pictures, conversations, odors, and the touch of things and people. We delete most of it to live with some semblance of order, and the reshuffling of memory goes on until we die.

Is your life story the truth? Yes, the chronological events are true. Is it the whole truth? No, you see and judge it through your conditioned eyes and mind - not of all involved - nor do you see the entire overview. Is it nothing but the truth? No, you select, share, delete, distort, subtract, assume and add what you want, need and choose to.

Studies have shown that we are often so worried about failure that we create vague goals, so that nobody can point the finger when we don’t achieve them. We come up with face-saving excuses, even before we have attempted anything. We cover up mistakes, not only to protect ourselves from others, but to protect us from ourselves. Experiments have demonstrated that we all have a sophisticated ability to delete failures from memory, like editors cutting gaffes from a film reel—as we’ll see. Far from learning from mistakes, we edit them out of the official autobiographies we all keep in our own heads.

Love transcends time, space, distance, universes. “Love can’t be confined to pages or photos or memories—it’s forever alive and wild and free. Romance comes and goes, lust flickers and smoulders, trials appear and test, life gets in the way and educates, pain can derail happiness, joy can delete sadness, togetherness is more than just a fairy-tale...it’s a choice. “A choice to love and cherish and honour and trust and adore. “A choice to choose love, all the while knowing it has the power to break you. “A choice, dear friends, to give someone your entire heart. “But in the end, love is what life is about. “And love is the purpose of everything.

The only opportunity the chatterbox ever has to download lies into our heads is if we have allowed it first to delete the memory of who we are in Christ.

To delete our memory to zero! A completely new life! . . This is a fantastic idea!

Sometimes to prove my ability to let go, I’ll write something long and delete it, or go on my phone and delate all the photos i have of memories. I’ve never loved any material object.

08/14/1025h. Dessert Competitions. 08/14/1315h. Illinois State Fair Infirmary; then motel; then Springfield Memorial Medical Center Emergency Room for distention and possible rupture of transverse colon (false alarm); then motel; incapacitated till well after sunset; whole day a washout; incredibly embarrassing, unprofessional; indescribable. Delete entire day.

We all have an eraser incorporated within us, a delete key, but we forget how to use it. Ho’oponopono helps us to remember the power that we have to choose between erasing (letting go) or reacting, being happy or suffering. It is only a matter of choice in every moment of our lives.

it was a traumatic time for him, but that’s as far as it goes. There is a blackout—emotional amnesia for any negative memory. It’s how he coped. The pain and the stress and the strain have been deleted. As if it didn’t occur. He remembers uncomplicated, joyful times; sunshine and white sand. The darkness of this memory is mine alone.

I still don't have the heart to press delete. So, I’m archiving all your pictures and memories to make room for something far better than what I’ve left behind.

We can’t delete our memories, but we can choose what we remember

Siblings are a volume of childhood memories; a nostalgia that cannot be easily deleted.

I wish I could delete the memory of you as easily as I could delete you from my contacts.

No matter how much you love someone sometimes it is better to totally disassociate yourself from them for peace of mind. Delete all memories of them no matter how hard it is to do so, to leave no reminders of them floating around, in order to make it easier to get over that person. As much as you want to run to that person grab them and tell them how much you still want them in your life whether it's friendship or otherwise it is best to see if that person still wants you in their life. After you have gotten rid of all memories, all associations, all communications if that person happens to reappear then your friendship/relationship was a true one and should continue. If after you cut all ties and you never see that person again then you know you did the right thing by letting them go. Cause if they really wanted you in their life they would not allow you to let them go so easily to begin with.

We are all affected in conversations of all kinds by something called the ‘truth bias.’ This phenomenon suggests that when we like someone, even just a little, our brains will make a decision, without our knowledge, to see only truth. Deceptive indicators and warnings are deleted from the memory of experiences with people. Our brains are working to do the right thing, and when we interact with someone we like, our brains will seek confirmation of this and ignore anything that conflicts with it.

there is a vicious part of measles that is not discussed as much as the disease itself: Kids who overcome a measles infection have a higher chance of getting other diseases afterwards because the measles virus kills Memory Cells. If you think that sounds a bit scary, that is the correct reaction—the virus basically deletes your acquired immunity.

9. Your Photo Album Many people have a photo album. In it they keep memories of the happiest of times. There may be a photo of them playing by the beach when they were very young. There may be the picture with their proud parents at their graduation ceremony. There will be many shots of their wedding that captures their love at one of its highest points. And there will be holiday snapshots too. But you will never find in your album any photographs of miserable moments of your life. Absent is the photo of you outside the principal’s office at school. Missing is any photo of you studying hard late into the night for your exams. No one that I know has a picture of their divorce in their album, nor one of them in a hospital bed terribly sick, nor stuck in busy traffic on the way to work on a Monday morning! Such depressing shots never find their way into anyone’s photo album. Yet there is another photo album that we keep in our heads called our memory. In that album, we include so many negative photographs. There you find so many snapshots of insulting arguments, many pictures of the times when you were so badly let down, and several montages of the occasions where you were treated cruelly. There are surprisingly few photos in that album of happy moments. This is crazy! So let’s do a purge of the photo album in our head. Delete the uninspiring memories. Trash them. They do not belong in this album. In their place, put the same sort of memories that you have in a real photo album. Paste in the happiness of when you made up with your partner, when there was that unexpected moment of real kindness, or whenever the clouds parted and the sun shone with extraordinary beauty. Keep those photos in your memory. Then when you have a few spare moments, you will find yourself turning its pages with a smile, or even with laughter.

And yes, I recall every entry I read. I usually memorise anything by reading it once. I took special care of her journal. Now all her words, her vents, and her confusions and fake personality are integrated into my head. When I grow old and my memory starts demanding to delete files to be able to remember others, I’d choose her stupid journal over books by philosophers and psychologists any day. Chaos. She’s fucking chaos.

He had been married to Lucille then, and I noticed that as time went on Bill talked about that period in his life with increasing gloom, as if in hindsight it had grown darker and more painful than when he was actually living it. Like everyone, Bill rewrote his life. The recollections of an older man are different from those of a young man. What seemed vital at forty may lose its significance at seventy. We manufacture stories, after all, from the fleeting sensory material that bombards us at every instant, a fragmented series of pictures, conversations, odors, and the touch of things and people. We delete most of it to live with some semblance of order, and the reshuffling of memory goes on until we die.

Life is one never-ending edit... In writing about my life, editing is time travel, collapsing, folding, expanding time. Gathering disparate wispy threads into neat chapters and sections. Memories rearranged, pulled apart, de-emphasized. Secrets and fears erased in between drafts only to emerge again as tangents to be deleted or set aside. Invisible track changes that reframe a narrative only to be solidified, trashed, and reborn. Filtering truths until the most essential elements remain. Em dashes that link; ellipses that prolong. A constant telling and retelling until the act itself threatens to weaken the blood and guts of a piece. Editing is a dialogue with demons, ancestors, and the future; a witchy dark art that summons the forces of the universe into legibility.

There is a section in all our minds where the memories don't just get stored, they get engraved. They sit behind a sign that says 'Do Not Delete'. Although who put the sign there, I do not know. The problem is we can't seem to control what goes in there. For as well as the gloriously high happy moments, the lowest most hurtful sad sorrowful ones get sucked in also. It's the place our minds wander to when we're tired or idle. It's not always a happy place to go. But I think I have found my solution. I flood my mind with memories and images of you. Even if you're doing nothing more than sipping your morning coffee, in the hope that with enough thought the sad memories will fall from prominence, obscured by those more positive. So the next time you catch me staring glossy eyed at you and you ask me what I'm thinking.. and I answer 'nothing', you know what I'm doing.

Two things that weren’t even on the agenda survived every upheaval that followed. General Akhtar remained a general until the time he died, and all God’s names were slowly deleted from the national memory as if a wind had swept the land and blown them away. Innocuous, intimate names: Persian Khuda which had always been handy for ghazal poets as it rhymed with most of the operative verbs; Rab, which poor people invoked in their hour of distress; Maula, which Sufis shouted in their hashish sessions. Allah had given Himself ninety-nine names. His people had improvised many more. But all these names slowly started to disappear: from official stationery, from Friday sermons, from newspaper editorials, from mothers’ prayers, from greeting cards, from official memos, from the lips of television quiz-show hosts, from children’s storybooks, from lovers’ songs, from court orders, from telephone operators’ greetings, from habeas corpus applications, from inter-school debating competitions, from road inauguration speeches, from memorial services, from cricket players’ curses; even from beggars’ begging pleas.

Two things that weren’t even on the agenda survived every upheaval that followed. General Akhtar remained a general until the time he died, and all God’s names were slowly deleted from the national memory as if a wind had swept the land and blown them away. Innocuous, intimate names: Persian Khuda which had always been handy for ghazal poets as it rhymed with most of the operative verbs; Rab, which poor people invoked in their hour of distress; Maula, which Sufis shouted in their hashish sessions. Allah had given Himself ninety-nine names. His people had improvised many more. But all these names slowly started to disappear: from official stationery, from Friday sermons, from newspaper editorials, from mothers’ prayers, from greeting cards, from official memos, from the lips of television quiz-show hosts, from children’s storybooks, from lovers’ songs, from court orders, from telephone operators’ greetings, from habeas corpus applications, from inter-school debating competitions, from road inauguration speeches, from memorial services, from cricket players’ curses; even from beggars’ begging pleas. In the name of God, God was exiled from the land and replaced by the one and only Allah who, General Zia convinced himself, spoke only through him. But today, eleven years later, Allah was sending him signs that all pointed to a place so dark, so final, that General Zia wished he could muster up some doubts about the Book. He knew if you didn’t have Jonah’s optimism, the belly of the whale was your final resting place.

It's funny, you know. We're free. We make choices. We weigh things in our minds, consider everything carefully, use all the tools of logic and education. And in the end, what we mostly do is what we have no choice but to do. Makes you think, why bother? But you bother because you do, that's why. Because you're a DNA-brand computer running Childhood 1.0 software. They update the software but the changes are always just around the edges. You have the brain you have, the intelligence, the talents, the strengths and weaknesses you have, from the moment they take you out of the box and throw away the Styrofoam padding. But you have the fears you picked up along the way. The terrors of age four or six or eight are never suspended, just layered over. The dread I'd felt so recently, a dread that should be so much greater because the facts had been so much more horrible, still could not diminish the impact of memories that had been laid down long years before. It's that way all through life, I guess. I have a relative who says she still gets depressed every September because in the back of her mind it's time for school to start again. She's my great-aunt. The woman is sixty-seven and still bumming over the first day of school five-plus decades ago. It's sad in a way because the pleasures of life get old and dated fast. The teenage me doesn't get the jolt the six-year-old me got from a package of Pop Rocks. The me I've become doesn't rush at the memories of the day I skated down a parking ramp however many years ago. Pleasure fades, gets old, gets thrown out with last year's fad. Fear, guilt, all that stuff stays fresh. Maybe that's why people get so enraged when someone does something to a kid. Hurt a kid and he hurts forever. Maybe an adult can shake it off. Maybe. But with a kid, you hurt them and it turns them, shapes them, becomes part of the deep, underlying software of their lives. No delete. I don't know. I don't know much. I feel like I know less all the time. Rate I'm going, by the time I'm twenty-one I won't know a damned thing. But still I was me. Had no choice, I guess. I don't know, maybe that's bull and I was just feeling sorry for myself. But, bottom line, I dried my eyes, and I pushed my dirty, greasy hair back off my face, and I started off down the road again because whatever I was, whoever I was, however messed up I might be, I wasn't leaving April behind. Maybe it was all an act programmed into me from the get-go, or maybe it grew up out of some deep-buried fear, I mean maybe at some level I was really just as pathetic as Senna thought I was. Maybe I was a fake. Whatever. Didn't matter. I was going back to the damned dragon, and then I was getting April out, and everything and everyone else could go screw themselves. One good thing: For now at least, I was done being scared.

Online censors have stepped up their already extensive blocking or deleting of websites and postings that challenge the Communist Party’s effort to erase the public’s memory of the bloodshed in 1989, when soldiers in Beijing killed hundreds of students, workers and professionals demonstrating for greater democracy and limits on corruption.

She was very intelligent , she has a lot of wisdom.... she told me one day before she died : I hadn't ever seen a mind able to mislead style like you, you have an unlimited memory, you will have a, in fact you are the only one who sees his life before it happens in his dreams, but in fact you delete the few beautiful memory of your dreams , seeking to be a winner, and I was not confident of anything more than you will not ever be defeated but always remember that "At the end of endings winner stands alone" yes it's the fact at the end the winner stand alone.

Delete unwanted memories and create more precious memories to enjoy your Life.

While there are millions of information-embedded web pages online, they are, in most cases, unable to automatically extract knowledge from their inherent interconnections. A single neuron is insignificant, but as it communicates with thousands of neighbors through synapses, it suddenly becomes part of a whole, much bigger than the sum of its parts. This whole keeps changing over time by the addition and deletion of nodes, increasing or decreasing the strength of their connections, in order constantly adapt to human experience and new learning requirements. It is through this process that the brain retrieves an old memory, analyzes the thread of a sudden event, or composes an argument for a particular idea. This is the level of malleability, commonly called neuroplasticity, that the web is expected to develop in the next few years or decades.

It’s impossible to un-know a secret. Once you know it, you own it. It can’t be returned like a borrowed book. Or burned like a love letter. The click of a mouse won’t delete it from the conscious mind. It’ll stick to the walls of your memory like dried oatmeal to a dish. The secrets you wish you never knew become a burden to lug. A bowling ball without holes. Some

Everyone always wonders when the end really is. How do we know when the right time is to say goodbye, the right time to walk away, the right time to let it all go. I don’t know if there really is a definition of ‘end’ when it comes to emotion. Is the end when the communication stops, or is it when you remove the photographs from the frames? Maybe the end is when you delete the person that you once stalked on a daily basis from every opportune social media site? Or maybe the end is when you’re more in love with the memories than you are with the person themselves.

Deleted the memory—need room for facts,” I took the time to type.

Pleasure fades, gets old, gets thrown out with last year's fad. Fear, guilt, all that stuff stays fresh. Maybe that's why people get so enraged when someone does something to a kid. Hurt a kid and he hurts forever. Maybe an adult can shake it off. Maybe. But with a kid, you hurt them and it turns them, shapes them, becomes part of the deep, underlying software of their lives. No delete.

Like everyone, Bill rewrote his life. The recollections of an older man are different from those of a young man. What seemed vital at forty might lose its significance at seventy. We manufacture stories, after all, from the fleeting sensory material that bombards us at every instant, a fragmented series of pictures, conversations, odors, and the touch of things and people. We delete most of it to live with some semblance of order, and the reshuffling of memory goes on until we die.

If you want to kill a person without killing him, delete the beautiful memories in his memory!

The substrates within each CDR that are frequently seen mutated are defined as “hotspots”. They are described by preferences for purines, rather than pyrimidines, as well as for particular codons, or codon motifs within the sequence. The fact that mutation in a hotspot can create or delete other hotspots indicates a higher order structure to the mutation process than that which is currently observable. McKay Brown, Mary Stenzel-Poore, Susan Stevens, Sophia K. Kondoleon, James Ng, Hans Peter Bachinger, and Marvin B. Rittenberg. Immunologic memory to phosphocholine keyhole limpet hemocyanin. Journal of Immunology, 148(2):339–346, January 1992.

...they still had to tell me about what had caused the latest fight. (I don't remember what it was, I deleted it from my memory as soon as I could get out of the room.)

The memory stick, which once again contained the AI, was still inserted in the slot in the screen’s mounting system. He pulled it out and weighed it in his hand. It wasn’t more than ten grams. If he were to delete it completely, the mass wouldn’t change. A consciousness is weightless but not immaterial. In Oscar’s case, it was defined by the position of the charge carriers in this memory chip. In Nick’s case, though, what was crucial were the connections linking his nerve cells via their synapses.

He nods, looking through the pictures on the screen on the back of his camera. Some relationships can only exist as memories. But unlike ephemeral digital images that can be sorted and deleted, we can’t erase the past. We have to learn to live with all the images that are stored in love's archive, memories tagged good and bad. No Photoshopping. Accept the negative before moving forward.

Small towns were like Facebook without an Internet connection; once something got on the “wall” of collective memory, it was there to stay. No delete button.

Extensive background in public accounting. I can also stand on my head!" Too many E-numbers. "I perform my job with effortless efficiency, effectiveness, efficacy, and expertise." There are not too many of them about. "Personal: Married 20 years; own a home, along with a friendly mortgage company." The first rule of projects is: You don't talk about projects. "My intensity and focus are at inordinately high levels, and my ability to complete projects on time is unspeakable." Learning a language. "Exposure to German for two years, but many words are inappropriate for business." Congratulations! "Accomplishments: Completed 11 years of high school."  No really, how is your memory? "Excellent memory; strong math aptitude; excellent memory; effective management skills; and very good at math." I think bricks would work better personally, but hey go for it. "Personal Goal: To hand-build a classic cottage from the ground up using my father-in-law. To be fair the job on offer was to play Snow White in a Christmas production. "Thank you for your consideration. Hope to hear from you shorty!" . Very I would say. "Enclosed is a ruff draft of my resume." Delete. "I saw your ad on the information highway, and I came to a screeching halt." Then why attach it? "Please disregard the attached resume -- it is terribly out of date." Lone wolf. "It's best for employers that I not work with people.

It’s impossible to un-know a secret. Once you know it, you own it. It can’t be returned like a borrowed book. Or burned like a love letter. The click of a mouse won’t delete it from the conscious mind. It’ll stick to the walls of your memory like dried oatmeal to a dish. The secrets you wish you never knew become a burden to lug. A bowling ball without holes.

My mission has completed today! I'm very happy to see the image of all together. Some people are missing. I don't know where are they? I hope they are growing with him. He lives his dream & others are living theirs. Sometimes passion is all what you get from surrounding. If you are living in lovely people, you always swim in the bonds of attachments . To create such field is very important for you. To make your mind strong is very important. To change yourself is very important. You shouldn't think on the past people & experiences. Sometimes to delete worst memories is very important. It's important to surround & celebrate with the people who bleeds to make you in benefit. It's very important to appreciate your best employee in front of others; not to demean others but to revise the next better performance. My role has been officially over today. I know my employer always loved the best ones. Why I was not in them is the failure which I need to resolve by myself. Sometimes, professionalism is the language to read the people & execute the work according to their best skills & get up to the desired results to hit the bulls-eye.

optogenetics to implant a false memory into a lab animal. (You may want to read that sentence again.) Their work suggests that instead of using cognitive-behavioral therapy or drugs to treat depression, dementia, and PTSDs, in the not-so-distant future, scientists may be manipulating memories or performing memory surgery. Their work is literally mind-altering. For further exploration (until neuroscientists can implant memories of these books into your brain) I suggest reading The Body Keeps the Score by Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, It Didn’t Start with You by Mark Wolynn, and watching NOVA’s Memory Hackers episode about engrams, editing memories, and deleting fears.

For further exploration (until neuroscientists can implant memories of these books into your brain) I suggest reading The Body Keeps the Score by Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, It Didn’t Start with You by Mark Wolynn, and watching NOVA’s Memory Hackers episode about engrams, editing memories, and deleting fears. As a fun adjunct, you can also explore How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan, with or without psychedelics.

The unfortunate result is that once an app starts to work, everyone is stuck with it. It’s hard to quit a particular social network and go to a different one, because everyone you know is already on the first one. It’s effectively impossible for everyone in a society to back up all their data, move simultaneously, and restore their memories at the same time. Effects of this kind are called network effects or lock-ins. They’re hard to avoid on digital networks.

Forget them completely. Delete their memories. Restart your life.

What does my husband know of love? Does deleting an email, a book-in-progress, a random user-generated reference on Wikipedia, the history of all the Bluetooth devices my phone has paired up with, delete what I have felt for someone? If the material does not exist, does the memory go away as well?

I suggest that the crisis of scuttling memory is a two-step maneuver among us. First is to recognize that market ideology, which is now totalizing among us, specializes in amnesia and in the ready use of the delete button. Money is readily transportable, places are virtual, community consists in flash mobs, and we live in a fast network of surface relationships. Such a way of life is inimical to memory and wants to empty memory of its staying power. But the second step in an ideology of commoditization is to fill the space of deleted memory with universal claims and uncontested offers for the maintenance of beauty, youth, wealth, control, security, and limitless well-being. The double process of emptying memory and generating ersatz memory is vigorous among us.

Upwards is always a memory of pristine sunshine for us. We have a colander to remind us that identity is everywhere.

I faced discrimination while working for foreign countries. Discrimination is a kind of virus and hence I always delete it from my memory.

As I said before, EFT isn’t a mind eraser; it doesn’t delete memories in any way, but it does clear the negative emotional and energetic patterns behind a memory. Thus it changes our approach and response to the event—and to life going forward.

You are the director of your life movie, and can change, alter, enhance, and even erase an image, impression, scene, or scenario that serves no positive purpose for you to hold onto. Our memories create pictures in our minds, and we can change them, rearrange them, or delete them as we wish.

Managed anger fades like the sunset, but when uncontrolled and released, it can create those lasting memories we wish we could delete.

Imagine another possibility – suppose you could back up your brain to a portable hard drive and then run it on your laptop. Would your laptop be able to think and feel just like a Sapiens? If so, would it be you or someone else? What if computer programmers could create an entirely new but digital mind, composed of computer code, complete with a sense of self, consciousness and memory? If you ran the program on your computer, would it be a person? If you deleted it could you be charged with murder?