Pastoral Resources

Alas! how little does the memory of these human inhabitants enhance the beauty of the landscape!

By the time I was in sixth grade I could bound every country in the world from memory.

How many radio shows I did is lost to memory now; it's in the hundreds - maybe even close to being in the thousands - for the span of years from the time I was eight till I was about fifteen.

The memory management on the PowerPC can be used to frighten small children.

His nerve, his memory, and I can't remember the third thing.

Memory is not wisdom; idiots can by rote repeat volumes. Yet what is wisdom without memory?

I didn't worry about it because I kind of felt I left a good message and memory with the people in terms of my work, and I always felt with a good record, I could always come back.

Anyone who in discussion relies upon authority uses, not his understanding, but rather his memory.

I've never really been anywhere, and now I get to go everywhere. I just have to make sure there's enough memory on my computer to hold all my pictures.

Looking back across the years, so many pictures flash on the screen of my memory that just as I begin to see one clearly, another slides in, blotting out the first, itself to be pushed aside by the next and the next and the next.

On the day I was born, or possibly on one of the following days, my father went on a walk in the forested hills and thought of a name for me. His first son was called Daniel, and Samuel in memory of one of his forefathers.

My earliest memory is dreamlike: in a small orchard or garden I am carried on the arm, I believe, of my father; there was a group of grown-ups, my mother among them, and the group was slowly walking in the orchard, it seems toward the house.

Memory, in widow's weeds, with naked feet stands on a tombstone.

Of what use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example of good or of evil?

Anyone who conducts an argument by appealing to authority is not using his intelligence; he is just using his memory.

Their memory's like a train: you can see it getting smaller as it pulls away And the things you can't remember Tell the things you can't forget that History puts a saint in every dream.

Memory that yearns to join the centre, a limb remembering the body from which it has been severed, like those bamboo thighs of the god.

People in cities may forget the soil for as long as a hundred years, but Mother Nature's memory is long and she will not let them forget indefinitely.

I feel that the thing that probably aided me the most in that scene with the dog was the utilization and using an actual recreation, affective memory, if you want to call it, of pain.

I been in the blues all my life. I'm still delivering 'cause I got a long memory.