She has a memory of trees and fields and nothing more.

Time lies frozen there. It's always Then. It's never Now.

The past is an old armchair in the attic, the present an ominous ticking sound, and the future is anybody's guess

Tell me your past, my beloved, for a man is his past, and is to be known by it.

Selection is the very keel on which our mental ship is built. And in this case of memory its utility is obvious.
If we remembered everything, we should on most occasions be as ill off as if we remembered nothing.

Everyone's memory is subjective. If in three weeks we were both interviewed about what went on here tonight, we would both probably have very, very different stories.