Seems like I spend all my time these days thinkin' how it used to be...

Now, Martha stop torturing yourself.

The more I owe it Oh, thank you very much.

Be always drunken...

There must be memories both grave and gay in every corner of it.

Now, you're walking out of the opera, leaving to the lush passionate music of Tristan and Isolde.

All of which I enjoyed and the memory of which I wouldn't part with for anything.

But so hypnotic

Remembrance. Remembrance.

It is the hour to be drunken...

I mean, real loud, drown me out?

He's so wrapped up in himself.

Turkey, Armenia, and the Burden of Memory

He fell in love with her and imagined that he loved her with all his soul.

No, thank you. I want to drink in the street where she lives

Or are you ashamed now to remember how you loved?

And it's not only our memory, but those who remember us, which means that architecture is not mute.

It's so involving compared to regular stereo.

What makes a man drunk wine, or that mob screaming his name?

Try to remember.

Your memoirs?

I'm remembering.

Try to remember.

Try to remember.

And of a dream that almost came true.

A song must be heard in sequence over time, and you must play it back in sequence over time.

Towering high above me. I became drunk with the beauty and singing rhythm of it,

Thanks for the memories.

Oh, memories, Donkeyman.

Remind me? As if I needed reminding.

It always comes back

Try to remember.

He's got a good memory.

I'm trying to remember him.

Bring sweet mem'ries of you.

That's why

That's so hard to remember?

Yes, I've suffered.

Digging up ancient history.

You've come back here drunk.

So good interpretation is more about things that are bodged and stuffed and of my world, right?

From Memory to Denial in Russia

Little memories you can hang on to.

Start building some memories.

Why don't you write your memoirs?