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Memory is a magnet. It will pull to it and hold only material nature has designed it to attract.

It's kind of a mysterious process, but something will catch my attention, and I'll make a note about it. I may even write a few pages about it, and then I'll put it aside, but I'll sort of keep it in mind. Then as time goes on, other things will gather to it as if it's a magnet, almost, and eventually, there's enough to make the story.

When you get old, it's hard to tell what's memory and what you've kind of created in your head as memory, you know?

I was trying to figure out what a memory feels like.

I'm always fascinated by the way memory diffuses fact.

A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.

It's surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.

This is how memories are made... by going with the flow.

Memory narrativises itself.

You never know when you're making a memory.