If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts

Thanks to the Counting Crows for kicking off a few thoughts about the nature of memory.

I also liked the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind for doing similar.
I wouldn't have minded being called Clementine. Or so I am currently telling myself.
In point of fact it would have been social death in my mining town, where even exacting articulation was cause for ridicule.

I gave my mate a card that said 'I shall note you in my book of memory' recently, which appears to be a quotation from Shakespeare.

I am also rather taken with:
O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide!