Jihyun Yun, from Some Are Always Hungry; “Savaging”
[Text ID: “I woke up having / forgotten even your faces, / but remembered / my hunger. What if this is all / I am left with: / memories of my young body / rifling through refuse”]
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Do not feel ashamed to forgive and forget.
Ali
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"Anyway, it'll be int'resting to see if it works."
"Yes, but it's wrong," said Granny.
"Not for these parts, it seems," said Nanny.
"Besides," said Magrat virtuously, "it can't be bad if we're doing it. We're the good ones."
"Oh yes, so we is," said Granny, "and there was me forgetting it for a minute there."
Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad
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The heart that truly loves never forgets.
-- Sophie Jordan
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some things you forget quietly. without clinging to a cause or the past, without worrying about forgetting, you see it fly away on its own until you feel a refreshing emptiness in your chest. this is the most beautiful form of forgetting.
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Adorkable Twilight & Friends - “Ultimate Goal Failure"
Adorkable Patreon Pals
Adorkable Twilight & Friends Twitter
Adorkable Twilight & Friends Wiki
Adorkable Twilight & Friends Deviant Art
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Meanings can indeed be forgotten, but only if we have chosen to bring to bear upon the text a singular scrutiny. Yet reading does not consist in stopping the chain of systems, in establishing a truth, a legality of the text, and consequently in leading its reader into "errors"; it consists in coupling these systems, not according to their finite quantity, but according to their plurality (which is a being, not a discounting): I pass, I intersect, I articulate, I release, I do not count. Forgetting meanings is not a matter for excuses, an unfortunate defect in performance; it is an affirmative value, a way of asserting the irresponsibility of the text, the pluralism of systems (if I closed their list, I would inevitably reconstitute a singular, theological meaning): it is precisely because I forget that I read.
Roland Barthes, S/Z
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Jeanette Winterson, from Gut Symmetries
[Text ID: “I am trying to untangle my past.”]
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V. E. Schwab, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
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Most day I am a
museum of things I want to forget.
E. E. Scott
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Ocean Vuong, Night Sky with Exit Wounds
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I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything.
-- Pablo Neruda
(Nicosia, Cyprus)
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