The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.

Things could change Gabe. Things could be different. I don't know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors. And grandparents. And everybody would have memories. You know about memories...Gabe, there could be love.

It's just that...without the memories, it's all meaningless.

Why do you and I have to hold these memories?''It gives us wisdom.

You know, sometimes it's nice to just have someone to blame, even if it has to be yourself, even if it doesn't make sense.

It's a funny thing about names, how they become a part of someone.

She smiles, and her eyes look as if they can see back into her memory, into all the things that have gone into making a person what they are.

Time goes on, and your life is still there, and you have to live it. After a while you remember the good things more often than the bad. Then, gradually, the empty silent parts of you fill up with sounds of talking and laughter again, and the jagged edges of sadness are softened by memories.

And here in this room, I re-experience the memories again and again it is how wisdom comes and how we shape our future.