The mutability of the past is the central tenet of Ingsoc. Past events, it is argued, have no objective existance, but survive only in written records and in human memories. The past is whatever the records and the memories agree upon. And since the Party is in full control of all records, and in equally full control of the minds of its members, it follows that the past is whatever the Party chooses to make it.
The autobiographical self is built on the basis of past memories and memories of the plans that we have made; it's the lived past and the anticipated future.
Dreams are composed of many things, my son. Of images and hopes, of fears and memories. Memories of the past, and memories of the future.
You have your wonderful memories," people said later, as if memories were solace. Memories are not. Memories are by definition of times past, things gone. Memories are the Westlake uniforms in the closet, the faded and cracked photographs, the invitations to the weddings of the people who are no longer married, the mass cards from the funerals of the people whose faces you no longer remember. Memories are what you no longer want to remember.
To me, that's where memories are very interesting because what happens when we start losing memories? What happens when you can't take your memories with you? Who are we without our memories, without our past?
I made records in the past that are as traditional as any other country records that have been made, but at the same time the records have a contemporary slant on it too.
'Dark Side of the Moon' was one of my father's favorite records, which I obviously didn't understand when I was young. To be honest, I don't really have too many memories of hearing it, but I definitely have memories of the cover.
I do love the Nat King Cole stuff, the classic Christmas records. There's something about putting those records on and hearing his voice at Christmastime that brings back a lot of great memories of growing up.
Obviously the facts are never just coming at you but are incorporated by an imagination that is formed by your previous experience. Memories of the past are not memories of facts but memories of your imaginings of the facts.
My dad would play me all of these records: Miles Davis records, John Coltrane records, Bill Evans records, a lot of jazz records. My first exposure to music was listening to jazz records.
Memories of the past are not memories of facts but memories of your imaginings of the facts.
I've put out records over the years, whether it's with Blackfield or No-Man or Bass Communion or Porcupine Tree, that are pop records, ambient records, metal records, singer-songwriter records.
Whatever worked in the past, build on it; whatever didn't work in the past, break the chain that binds you to it.
The past does not only draw us back to the past. There are certain memories of the past that have strong steel springs and, when we who live in the present touch them, they are suddenly stretched taut and then they propel us into the future.
Men's memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not.
Smiling with pleasure, they went through their memories, not sad, old people's memories, but poetic, youthful ones, those impressions from the very distant past where dream merges with reality, and they laughed softly, rejoicing at something.