Some of my fondest memories of the early years of Netflix have to do with our efforts to figure out the most efficient, effective, and fast methods to get DVDs to people all over the country.
Human memory is a marvelous but fallacious instrument. The memories which lie within us are not carved in stone; not only do they tend to become erased as the years go by, but often they change, or even increase by incorporating extraneous features.
I screen tested for ‘The Tudors’ in N.Y. That was my first experience of N.Y., being flown here to screen test with Jonathan Rhys Meyers. So I have very, very fond memories of New York – New York helped give me my first big break.
Most of my food memories are of my Nan cooking Sunday dinners – roasts of meat with lots of vegetables. I suppose I cook what’s comforting and dishes that make me feel good.
Binaries aside, we are the products of our relationships with our identities – cities we have built, bodies we have embraced, kindred souls we’ve cherished, our memories, our dreams, the fears we hide, the pain we hold – identities that cannot be reduced to a collection of labels.
I have a terrible memory of my own past. I can barely remember my childhood. I have few memories from college and law school – though once I got married, I got the advantage of being able to consult my husband’s memory.
I have lots of memories of my father. He was an incredible father. We all loved him to death.
If we are not given the chance to forget, we are also not given the chance to recover our memories, to alter them with time, perspective, and wisdom. Forgetting, we can be ourselves beyond what the past has told us we are; we can evolve. That is the possibility we want from the future.
I don’t have any beauty shop memories. I remember the barber shop.
So much of what we do is ephemeral and quickly forgotten, even by ourselves, so it’s gratifying to have something you have done linger in people’s memories.
Snapchat really has to do with the way photographs have changed. Historically, photos have always been used to save really important memories: major life moments. But today… pictures are being used for talking.
I say that I can’t make anything up. I think of myself as a collage artist. I’m cutting and pasting memories of my life. And I say, I have to live a life in order to tell a life. I would prefer to tell it because telling you’re always in control, you’re like God.
Ohio means a lot to me. Kinda like a second home, just the memories I have here and the fans I made while at Ohio State with the things that I accomplished at that great university.
There is nothing like an odor to stir memories.
When we’re awake, cortisol can fragment memories – one reason eyewitness crime scene accounts are so unreliable. But at night that very fragmentation allows creative recombinations of ideas.
My memories of being nine or ten years old are especially vivid, since this is the time when you have a real sense of who you are – before the self-conscious preteen years start.
Clothes have memories, and sometimes you don’t want to remember. People remember where they bought the clothes, who gave them, or where they stole them from.
There is something to be said for being older – and memories.
When you’ve experienced the real Marilyn, it’s difficult to watch a movie about her.’ I didn’t want to have the memories of my experience tarnished in any way.
We had friendly and pleasant relationships with all that worked in our films – many happy memories.
I cannot believe that ‘Pinocchio’ is over yet, and I always think about so many great memories that I made while playing in the drama.
Wherever you go, your memories from the place you grew up in always remain special.
Leftovers in their less visible form are called memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart.
Every mind is a clutter of memories, images, inventions and age-old repetitions. It can be a ghetto, too, if a ghetto is a sealed-off, confined place. Or a sanctuary, where one is free to dream and think whatever one wants. For most of us it’s both – and a lot more complicated.
My mother was a great bringer-up of children. My memories are of a sense of security and comfort.
I have to live within my memories, within my private universe, and continually return to China, the land where my thoughts are locked. This is a very painful kind of existence, this feeling of nowhereness.
In its more listless moments, ‘Pharaoh’s Army’ seems a ramshackle collection of memories not overly concerned with telling a larger story.
I spent my childhood in Delhi. I have met my wife here. I spent my life here with my parents and sister. It’s been beautiful. But I have very fond memories.
Many people have fond memories of ‘The Monkees.’ I fondly remember it, too.
I’ve seen all of these decisions that have been made by all these great leaders who have been part of Google, and this has been an opportunity for me when I’m running YouTube, is to be able to take advantage of all of those memories.
Growing up, I never knew that Raffi turned down celebrity endorsements, TV shows, and specials and refused to make merchandise, but it makes sense given how I think about him: My memories are limited to his voice through the record player and the album covers I stared at.
It seemed like most of the memories faded before they had time to form. And after a while, my life with my father seemed like a familiar story or a distant dream.
Ideas come from ordinary, everyday life. And from imagination. And from feelings. And from memories. Memories of dust in my sneakers and humming whitewalls down a hill called Monkey.
I’ve never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don’t understand people who hide from their past. Everything you live through helps to make you the person you are now.
I have amazing memories of being able to travel and being able to have family all over the world.
As a boy, because I was born and raised in Ohio, about 60 miles north of Dayton, the legends of the Wrights have been in my memories as long as I can remember.
To reminisce with my old friends, a chance to share some memories, and play our songs again.
Both of my books, ‘Love Is a Mix Tape’ and ‘Talking to Girls About Duran Duran,’ are about how music gets tangled up with all our other emotional memories. Since I’m an obsessive music fan, I’m always seeking out new sonic thrills.
The grief of losing my father has come in waves over the years, as it does with most people. His love and devotion as a father provided my closest, most intimate relationship. Dad, and our time together, is in my bones. While reflecting on him, the memories themselves seem to boil down into certain ‘essences of Dad.’
For me, returning to Los Angeles annihilates the memories of where I have just been with an astonishing speed.
My dad was a huge country music fan, but he also had a band and he sang. So he’d listen to a lot of music and the songs that he’d learn for the band were more from the male artists. So my earliest country memories were Waylon Jennings, Conway Twitty, George Jones, Johnny Paycheck even.
Travel has always been one of the best ways to make new memories and reconnect with your loved ones.
I have great memories of Tottenham. I spent four great years there with a lot of emotions, with a lot of love from the club and the fans.
I acknowledge the privilege of being alive in a human body at this moment, endowed with senses, memories, emotions, thoughts, and the space of mind in its wisdom aspect.
I love the Middle East. My earliest childhood memories are of Jerusalem. I love the colors and smells and cadence of Arabic spoken in the streets of Cairo or Beirut. I also love the modernity and verve of Tel Aviv.
Memories are what you no longer want to remember.
I have very fond memories of growing up in Greece, of my brothers and I causing chaos and climbing up trees, which is really cool. Back then, we didn’t have all the video games and all that stuff. We just had each other, and we played on the street.
I hope our fans will be able to make great memories with us through the music and performances we show on stage.
My earliest memories as a child are listening to Beatles records, and they are a big part of how I’ve learned to write pop songs.
My adult life, I grew up in Chicago. When I go back there, I always have fond memories.
I love out-of-the-way, rugged places. For me, holidays are about the experiences, and the people, and the memories, rather than sitting on a nice beach getting tanned. I try to plant myself where I am and embrace what is there in front of me.
I love to dance, and sing – in the shower, not in public. I’m too old to go raving, but my fondest memories are of that kind of thing – dancing, with lots of people, outside if possible.
Too many people have been analyzing their pasts, their childhoods, their memories, their parents, and realizing that it doesn’t do anything-or that it doesn’t do enough.
I’ve always had fond memories of cooking Thanksgiving.
Through the years, I have so many wonderful memories of playing with the Red Wings: winning four Stanley Cups, scoring big goals, going into battle every night side by side with my teammates, playing with every ounce of effort I could muster.
