Ah, tell me not that memory sheds gladness o'er the past, what is recalled by faded flowers, save that they did not last?

When does the mind put forth its powers? when are the stores of memory unlocked? when does wit 'flash from fluent lips?' -- when but after a good dinner? Who will deny its influence on the affections? Half our friends are born of turbots and truffles.

Every other species of talent carries with it its eternity; we enjoy the work of the poet, the painter, the sculptor, only as thousands will do after us; but the actor - his memory is with his generation, and that passes away.

Music is the language of some other state, born of memory. For what can wake the soul's strong instinct of some other world like music?

Memory has many conveniences, and, among others, that of foreseeing things as they have afterwards happened.