1 They found he had absolute pitch, and a remarkable memory.
2 Certainly his kind have left horrible unconscious memories in all warm-blooded life.
3 All the years that have passed have not dimmed my memory of that first glorious autumn.
4 Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.
5 I begrudged the room that Jake and Otto and Russian Peter took up in my memory, which I wanted to crowd with other things.
6 Often she was tempted to tell Martha that the child must be kept at home, but somehow the memory of his foolish, happy face deterred her.
7 Such vivid pictures came to me that they might have been Mr. Shimerda's memories, not yet faded out from the air in which they had haunted him.
8 The memory of that supper makes me hungry now; the sight of it then, when I had only a students' boarding-house dinner behind me, was delicate torment.
9 As I sat down to my book at last, my old dream about Lena coming across the harvest-field in her short skirt seemed to me like the memory of an actual experience.
10 About us it was growing darker and darker, and I had to look hard to see her face, which I meant always to carry with me; the closest, realest face, under all the shadows of women's faces, at the very bottom of my memory.
My Antonia By Willa CatherContextHighlight In BOOK 4. The Pioneer Woman's Story: IV 11 Morning after morning I used to pace up and down my sunny little room, looking off at the distant river bluffs and the roll of the blond pastures between, scanning the 'Aeneid' aloud and committing long passages to memory.
12 In my memory there was a succession of such pictures, fixed there like the old woodcuts of one's first primer: Antonia kicking her bare legs against the sides of my pony when we came home in triumph with our snake; Antonia in her black shawl and fur cap, as she stood by her father's grave in the snowstorm; Antonia coming in with her work-team along the evening sky-line.