A thousand thought and memories shuffled through my brain like black jack deck.
His memories flashed as they made contact.
Dusty's memories righted themselves.
His stunted memories collided with the others running through her mind.
Their kindness to me was the seed from which many pleasant memories have since grown.
It took her mind back to childhood memories of barefoot strolls down dusty lanes.
While he looked dead, he was alive enough for his memories to reach her.
Besides, this place holds terrible memories for me.
Dusty straightened, the pain of his memories subsiding.
Her memories wiggled their way out of the mud of her mind, and she sat upright.
I still have confused memories of that illness.
When had he shut out those fond memories of rodeos and outings at the Medena hacienda?
If she closed her eyes, she would see the black memories crossing through his mind, but she allowed him his privacy.
The memories came faster.
A hand swept the dark memories from her mind, and she sagged against Darian, feeling the same sense of peace overtake his mind.
The vamp's memories were fading fast and growing blurry.
She braced herself against the memories running through his head and the confusion as he tried to figure out where he was.
He paced, mind racing with memories he could no longer suppress, thoughts of his brother, of Claire, of Darian's death.
You were supposed to marry Claire … She went on, closing her eyes as she repeated everything from the memories of others.
The reason that we do not observe this process in ordinary children is, because we seldom observe them at all, and because they are fed from so many sources that the memories are confused and mutually destructive.
Memories of Austerlitz and of Dolokhov flashed rapidly and clearly through his mind.
His blood boiled more at the memories that pricked his mind.
He felt both spent and wired, his head too full of memories to control.
He spent the night deep in thought, forcing himself to face the dark memories he'd tried so hard to bury.
The dead vamp's memories were fresh in her mind, and she sought the sights he'd passed.
Though she wasn't hungry, she drank, exploring the black curtain shielding his memories as she did.
If there was a way to make him see what was in her head … to make him remember … she focused on Damian's memories, the ones before the dark age, when he and his brother were happy.
As she drank, she replayed Damian's memories over and over.
She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him, her own memories of Damian forefront in her mind.
Every step he took brought more memories of people and places he felt to his core he knew – but couldn't recognize.
His world was one of confusion, his memories overwhelming as the dam that had been in place for thousands of years crumbled.
The memories rippled through her then coalesced, locking themselves away in the back of her mind.
"My dear Darian," the Watcher said in a softer tone, "I cannot take the pain of the memories you will experience in the morning when you remember the whole of your existence.
The teachers at the Wright-Humason School were always planning how they might give the pupils every advantage that those who hear enjoy--how they might make much of few tendencies and passive memories in the cases of the little ones--and lead them out of the cramping circumstances in which their lives were set.
And suddenly, at this thought of death, a whole series of most distant, most intimate, memories rose in his imagination: he remembered his last parting from his father and his wife; he remembered the days when he first loved her.
Such a storm of feelings, thoughts, and memories suddenly arose within him that he could not fall asleep, nor even remain in one place, but had to jump up and pace the room with rapid steps.
Partly because of the depressing memories associated with Bald Hills, partly because Prince Andrew did not always feel equal to bearing with his father's peculiarities, and partly because he needed solitude, Prince Andrew made use of Bogucharovo, began building and spent most of his time there.
As it is, not only has she left us, and particularly Prince Andrew, with the purest regrets and memories, but probably she will there receive a place I dare not hope for myself.
So they went through their memories, smiling with pleasure: not the sad memories of old age, but poetic, youthful ones--those impressions of one's most distant past in which dreams and realities blend--and they laughed with quiet enjoyment.
"Do you know," said Natasha in a whisper, moving closer to Nicholas and Sonya, "that when one goes on and on recalling memories, one at last begins to remember what happened before one was in the world..."
A sensation she had not experienced for a long time--that of hundreds of eyes looking at her bare arms and neck--suddenly affected her both agreeably and disagreeably and called up a whole crowd of memories, desires and emotions associated with that feeling.
Sometimes Natasha noticed embarrassment and awkwardness on his part in her presence, especially when he wanted to do something to please her, or feared that something they spoke of would awaken memories distressing to her.
Occasionally amid these memories temptations of the devil would surge into her imagination: thoughts of how things would be after his death, and how her new, liberated life would be ordered.
Of late he had received so many new and very serious impressions--such as the retreat from Smolensk, his visit to Bald Hills, and the recent news of his father's death--and had experienced so many emotions, that for a long time past those memories had not entered his mind, and now that they did, they did not act on him with nearly their former strength.
Softened by memories of Princess Mary he began to pray as he had not done for a long time.
Then who was executing him, killing him, depriving him of life--him, Pierre, with all his memories, aspirations, hopes, and thoughts?
The harder his position became and the more terrible the future, the more independent of that position in which he found himself were the joyful and comforting thoughts, memories, and imaginings that came to him.
The most cunning man could not have crept into her confidence more successfully, evoking memories of the best times of her youth and showing sympathy with them.
Maybe it resurrected memories that were unpleasant - even painful.
The agonizing memories ruptured to the surface at last, forcing a long overdue reaction.
It sounded like a good chance to get away from this house and the memories for a while.
That night, for the first time in more than a week, she tossed and turned in the bed, her sleep interrupted by memories of her family.
A home with bittersweet memories - a home she could no longer have?
An article on young girl reported missing from her Worcester home brought back memories of Betsy searching for more details on similar disappearances.
His memories and thoughts played like home videos, similar to those of her mate, Damian, and his adopted brothers.
Only those touched by fate had such vivid memories that entered her mind unbidden.
She watched the memories in his head.
Breathless, Dusty closed his eyes and leaned against the punching bag, unable to shake his first memories of Damian or his last memories of his sister, Trinka.
Her presence alone was already prodding free memories he'd thought he'd buried.
Her memories overshadowed, she threw open the curtains.
As he spoke, memories streamed through his mind, memories of the universe before the Schism and afterwards, when he and a few others were cast alone onto earth.
He didn't like that she was able to pull those memories free of the prison he'd sent them to.
His memories were much like Damian's: fuzzy home videos with no sense of his future.
Memories of how much Darian loved Claire, of his own nights in her bed, overwhelmed him.
The curtain blocking him from his memories was less defined, like ice beginning to thaw.
Darian held his head, and she wrapped her arms around him, wishing she could protect him from the dark memories breaking free.
He reached out to his brother, absorbing what memories were in his mind.
She didn't want to go, especially with the memories of the movies about his past still fresh.
But, except for these fleeting memories, if, indeed, they be memories, it all seems very unreal, like a nightmare.
All these memories will be no more, none of them will have any meaning for me.
In his person, honor was shown to a simple fighting Russian soldier without connections and intrigues, and to one who was associated by memories of the Italian campaign with the name of Suvorov.
Still, it was her first car and one with memories packed into it.
His assessment tore through her mind, digging up memories and laying them bare on the surface.
As it always did, memories of the twins sparked a fire of anger at her father.
He sensed the visions in her head, not surprised to see his own black memories playing on the screens on the back of her eyelids along with a dark nightmare of a man in a corner crying.
He was more and more appalled by the memories afflicting his brother, what he'd gone through since his supposed death.
At least she had the mind of a deity still, the memories and … She froze.
The memories were gone.
In one case, the technology, writing, probably resulted in our memories getting worse, but we gained much more than we lost.
And without linking up the events of the day or drawing a conclusion from them, Pierre closed his eyes, seeing a vision of the country in summertime mingled with memories of bathing and of the liquid, vibrating globe, and he sank into water so that it closed over his head.