I was always a drama queen. I remember playing in the kitchen, trying to get my mom to think I was dead and call the police. When she didn’t, I would cry. I was always theatrical. I don’t think any of my relatives are surprised.
My dad’s cooking was magic in the kitchen. But eventually over the years, his personality changed and his ability to remember recipes failed. He became paranoid and thought people were stealing from him, when often he was just misplacing things.
I used to help my maternal grandad in his garden. He was a lovely, kind man. He turned his spare bedroom into a greenhouse because he didn’t have room in the garden, and I remember rows of polythened plants stuffed in there.
I only see clearly what I remember.
Whoever refuses to remember the inhumanity is prone to new risks of infection.
I remember when I first won the Academy Award and how much I loved it. I just wish there was an award around that you could really believe in again.
When things are steep, remember to stay level-headed.
You obviously don’t really forget how to play the old songs; you just don’t have to spend so much time convincing yourself that you remember them. Way less mental energy is spent swimming around in lyrics you’ve already written and chords you’ve already played.
I hope people remember me for the kind of person that I am, not because of what I do.
I push myself hard. I don’t like pain, exactly, but as a ballerina, I lived in constant pain. At ballet school in Stockholm, I remember we had a locker where if someone had been to the doctor and gotten painkillers, we divided them among us. In a sense, we were all addicted.
I remember one of the first gigs I played with that amp was at a local church. They wanted someone to fill in with the guitar and my friend say, ‘Ah, he can play.’ And so I dragged the amplifier down and started playing and everybody started yelling ‘turn it down!’
When the space shuttle’s engines cut off, and you’re finally in space, in orbit, weightless… I remember unstrapping from my seat, floating over to the window, and that’s when I got my first view of Earth. Just a spectacular view, and a chance to see our planet as a planet.
Remember the two benefits of failure. First, if you do fail, you learn what doesn’t work; and second, the failure gives you the opportunity to try a new approach.
What do you remember about Jason Robinson? His feet. Not how improved he was under a high ball or his kicking skills. Everyone remembers those feet. He could go round you in a phone box.
I remember just lying in the grass, staring at the clouds, wondering where they drifted off to after they floated over Texas. I never would have imagined that one day I would follow one of those clouds and find myself in Hollywood.
It is well, when judging a friend, to remember that he is judging you with the same godlike and superior impartiality.
I remember very vividly, as a child growing up in England, living through the Cuban Missile Crisis. For a few days, the entire biosphere seemed to be on the verge of destruction. And the same weapons are still here, and they’re still armed. If we avoid that trap, others are waiting for us.
I remember how being young and black and gay and lonely felt. A lot of it was fine, feeling I had the truth and the light and the key, but a lot of it was purely hell.
I have very fond memories of the ’80s; they were very formative years for me. I certainly remember the Cold War. It was a closer doorstep for the Brits than the Americans, so it was a very real and palpable threat at the time.
I remember where I was when I first heard ‘Boyz N The Hood’ – 126th Street and Normandy, South Central, Los Angeles. I remember that I was on my porch. What they described in that song was so vivid and so clear to me because it was the kind of life I was used to witnessing and partly experiencing in my neighborhood.
I remember auditioning for ‘Moulin Rouge!,’ the part that Ewan McGregor played. I was so young: I was literally just out of college.
Perhaps even these things, one day, will be pleasing to remember.
Put it before them briefly so they will read it, clearly so they will appreciate it, picturesquely so they will remember it and, above all, accurately so they will be guided by its light.
I remember as a little boy I ate one meal a day and sometimes slept in the street. I will never forget that and it inspires me to fight hard, stay strong and remember all the people of my country, trying to achieve better for themselves.
My lifestyle doesn’t really account for movies. I can’t even remember what I last saw.
It is brilliant to be able to say ‘you have never had a holiday with your wife and your kids, here you go.’ It is really lovely and heartwarming and we get to do it. It is lovely to get that opportunity. We remember them all.
I have lexical-gustatory synesthesia. I can taste, and always have tasted, words. I remember when I was a kid and learning to read I mentioned to my mom that certain words I was learning tasted certain ways, thinking everyone was like that, and didn’t understand why she didn’t get what I was saying.
I remember, when I was young, I had idols who inspired me to go for my dreams, and I just want to give the same back.
Remember that we are all human beings trying to do what we love to do.
We must remember that one determined person can make a significant difference, and that a small group of determined people can change the course of history.
Walking at random through the streets, we came by chance upon the Cathedral of Notre Dame. I shall long remember my first impression of the scene within. The lofty gothic ceiling arched far above my head and through the stained windows the light came but dimly – it was all still, solemn and religious.
So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.
I remember when I got to 16, my mum was like, ‘No, now you’ve got to go and get a proper job. We’ve indulged you long enough.’ I don’t think they ever thought I was going to be successful in entertainment at all.
My parents always got a kick out of my art. I was always able to make them laugh. As I got older, I remember the thrill I got when I graduated from making my classmates laugh to making adults laugh. Kind of a watershed moment.
After 3 years, I left the army at the ripe old age of 20, but I’d like to think some of the skills are still with me. I’m great at physical movement; I can still remember Morse code, and perhaps most importantly, I can fold my socks up into little balls with smiley faces.
When I was nominated for the Oscar, I was absolutely positive that Judy Garland would win for ‘Judgment at Nuremberg,’ and then they call my name, and I was absolutely paralyzed. And I remember walking down to the stage and saying to myself, ‘Don’t run. It’s not dignified.’
While it is important for people to see your promise you must also remember that hope is the keeper of both happiness and disappointment, the father of both progress and failure.
I had a gypsy upbringing, so I moved around all over the place and can’t remember a street I grew up on.
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.
We all have to start somewhere, and doing something is better than nothing at all. Start small so you don’t get discouraged and give up. Remember it is all about consistency.
I have had a lot of adversaries in my political life, but no enemies that I can remember.
I’m going to become the best-remembered artist of my generation by staying away from the party as often as possible. That way, people will remember me, not because I was great, but because I didn’t cause them any later embarrassment.
When I’m on stage, it’s really intense. My mind is going a million miles an hour, trying to remember my act, trying to say it all the right way. It’s funny how different it looks and how it’s happening. There are three Fellini circuses in my head, and outwardly it looks like I’m going to get a bagel.
Always tell the truth – it’s the easiest thing to remember.
Remember, life itself is a mission. While we are on the go, we need to stop between steps to re-focus on the Word and the Will of God. While we are on the go, I mean, while we are on the mission, we need to sometimes stop at intervals to assess our progress and prepare ourselves for the challenges ahead.
Yeah, well when I first started working, it was $5 a show; it was probably a little higher by the time I got to my own show, but I remember that they put me under contract at $100 a week, which to me was really an astronomical price.
When I was two, a dragonfly flew near me. A man knocked it to the ground and trod on it. I remember crying because I’d caused the dragonfly to be killed.
I remember, I was at the house with my oldest son and I got that call from Johnny Ace. You know that call. Johnny was the guy that hired me, fired me and hired me back, which was kind of cool. But I was just fired, everything stopped, my whole world stopped.
I ate some pretty funky, authentic Chinese food in Hong Kong. There was an egg from some bird that’s not a chicken. I can’t remember what it was, but it was green and brown and not very tasty.
I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken – and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
