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I would like to be forgotten. What's so good about being remembered?

After I die, I'll be forgotten.

There's a lot of days where you feel forgotten.

To be forgotten, is to die a little.

Just to be remembered is good enough for me. Lots of people are forgotten.

I've forgotten what it's like to remember. I've lost the mindless confidence that a moment, an idea, a thought will be there for me later, the bravado of breezing through experience in the certainty that it will become part of my self, part of my story.

Whole generations have forgotten history.

So much of memory comes from the beginning of our lives when we know the world for the first time with a kind of clarity. It is that discovery of the past in the present on which a writer depends again and again as if our lost childhoods, like the surprising cyclamen plant, are forever opening new blossoms.

I've a grand memory for forgetting.