John Clerk doesn't remember being a child, a teen, a young man... as far as he knows, he's always been his present age. He doesn't remember how he started to kill, nor does he remember a time when he thought it wrong. He does remember different eras, though. He remembers The Great Depression, when people could just disappear and no one would be the wiser. Whole families in fact. He remembers the Second World War, when women would take any risk for a hint of news about their sweethearts, and what hunts he had then with nothing but a government uniform. He remembers Woodstock and the thousands of people too stoned to know any better.
— "With A Song In My Heart," Innocents
Dean: I gotta ask... how old are you?
Death: As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember any more.
Death: As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember any more.
War Doctor: How old are you now?
Eleventh Doctor: Uh, I dunno, I lose track. Twelve hundred and something, I think. Unless I'm lying. I can't remember if I'm lying about my age, that's how old I am.
Eleventh Doctor: Uh, I dunno, I lose track. Twelve hundred and something, I think. Unless I'm lying. I can't remember if I'm lying about my age, that's how old I am.
Ennesby: She's forgotten more things than we currently know.
Tagon: I've heard that one before. Old people say it all the time.
Ennesby: Well, here's a new twist. I've seen the size of what's missing. She's forgotten more than what ALL of us know. All of us put together.
Tagon: I've heard that one before. Old people say it all the time.
Ennesby: Well, here's a new twist. I've seen the size of what's missing. She's forgotten more than what ALL of us know. All of us put together.
— Schlock Mercenary, on T'kkkuts-Afa
"I am the Guardian of..." The patriarch frowned, as if trying to recall a fragment of memory from the detritus of past millennia. "Whatever."
Duane: Are you a Senet Beast? ... Then you saw, well, the beginning. What can you tell me?
Lady Ilganyag: Do you remember your first years? Few of us old ones do. Hazy aeons of squalling infancy. I rely on the same stories as you.
Lady Ilganyag: Do you remember your first years? Few of us old ones do. Hazy aeons of squalling infancy. I rely on the same stories as you.
"Memories of a possible future... worthless, all. Worthless as memories of the only past. Fated to fray and fade into oblivion. Leaving naught but a gaping void..."
—Elidibus, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers
The Kalachakra, the ouroborans, those of us who loop perpetually through the same course of historical events, though our lives within may change — in short, the members of the Cronus Club — forget. Some see this forgetting as a gift, a chance to rediscover things which have already been experienced, to retain some wonder at the universe. A sense of deja vu haunts the oldest members of the Club, who know that they have seen this all before but can't quite remember when. For others, the imperfect memory of our kin is viewed as proof that we are, for our condition, still human.
For a long time, it remembers where the vessel is, and remembers where it came from, and why. As centuries go by, it remembers less. After dozens of millennia, it simply lives, and observes, and changes.
Richard: Who are you?
Reg: I have absolutely no idea, much of my memory's gone completely. I am very old, you see. Startlingly old. Yes, I think if I were to tell you how old I was it would be fair to say that you would be startled. Odds are that so would I, because I can't remember. I've seen an awful lot, you know. Forgotten most of it, thank God. Trouble is, when you start getting to my age, which, as I think I mentioned earlier, is a somewhat startling one — did I say that?
Richard: Yes, you did mention it.
Reg: Good. I'd forgotten whether I had or not. The thing is that your memory doesn't actually get any bigger, and a lot of stuff just falls out. So you see, the major difference between someone of my age and someone of yours is not how much I know, but how much I've forgotten. And after a while you even forget what it is you've forgotten, and after that you even forget that there was something to remember. Then you tend to forget, er, what it was you were talking about.
Reg: I have absolutely no idea, much of my memory's gone completely. I am very old, you see. Startlingly old. Yes, I think if I were to tell you how old I was it would be fair to say that you would be startled. Odds are that so would I, because I can't remember. I've seen an awful lot, you know. Forgotten most of it, thank God. Trouble is, when you start getting to my age, which, as I think I mentioned earlier, is a somewhat startling one — did I say that?
Richard: Yes, you did mention it.
Reg: Good. I'd forgotten whether I had or not. The thing is that your memory doesn't actually get any bigger, and a lot of stuff just falls out. So you see, the major difference between someone of my age and someone of yours is not how much I know, but how much I've forgotten. And after a while you even forget what it is you've forgotten, and after that you even forget that there was something to remember. Then you tend to forget, er, what it was you were talking about.
