Dr. Schreber: I call them the Strangers. They abducted us and brought us here. This city, everyone in it... is their experiment. They mix and match our memories as they see fit, trying to divine what makes us unique. One day, a man might be an inspector. The next, someone entirely different. When they want to study a murderer, for instance, they simply imprint one of their citizens with a new personality. Arrange a family for him, friends, an entire history... even a lost wallet. Then they observe the results. Will a man, given the history of a killer, continue in that vein? Or are we, in fact, more than the sum of our memories?
Thomas Veil: Soon, all my memories will be gone. Without ceasing to breathe, I will cease to exist.
Bobby Darin: Memories are like moonbeams, we do with them what we will.
Cogliostro: Where do the dead belong... in the world of the living? For this newest spawn, moments of peace never come. His memories are fragments of the life he once had. For a hellspawn, memories replay his soul's own personal hell...
Alexander: But you dream Crateros... Your simplicity long ended, when you took Persian mistresses and children, and you thickened your holdings with plunder and jewels... Because you have fallen in love with all the things in life that destroy men... do you not see... and you, as well as I, know, that as the year decline and the memories stale and all your great victories fade it will always be remembered, you left your king in Asia
[from the director's cut] Mr. Hand: We're very lucky when you think about it. Emma Murdoch: I'm sorry? Mr. Hand: To be able to revisit those places which have meant so very much to us. Emma Murdoch: I thought it was more that we were haunted by them. Mr. Hand: Perhaps. But imagine a life Alien to yours. In which you memories were not your own, but those shared by every other of you kind. Imagine the torment of such an existence....no experiences to call your own. Emma Murdoch: If it was all you knew, maybe it would be a comfort. Mr. Hand: But if you were to discover something different...Something....better.
Avalyn Friesen: [Walks through pasture with flashlight toward dead calf] Farmers have been finding mutilated cattle like this around here for years. I told "World of Mystery," but they conveniently edited it out. [Kneels] Avalyn Friesen: Daddy says it's just a bunch of Satan worshippers, going around, chopping up cows. Ha! C'mere - let me see your hand. [Guides BRIAN's hand to wound on calf] Avalyn Friesen: Feel that? It's the sex organs. They're gone. The aliens, they experiment on cattle, because the poor things are so defenseless. Us, on the other hand - they can't kill us. They just leave behind the hidden memories of what they've done. Which in a way is almost worse. Notice anything else strange? There's no blood. They took that, too.
Jenkins: [Voiceover] The Supermarket in Ellington, Connecticut was always a constant in my life. Unchanged from my first memories of the place as a little kid, from the front end to the back room, aisle seven to seafood, it was timeless, like the town it was built in. Lying below the Johnny Appleseed Orchards, and just across the street from the Kelly family's cornfields, the place always felt like it was simply a natural part of Ellington. The Supermarket was an important link in the town: it was where all the families got their food, where all the local kids worked, where all the farmers would come to cool off. But most of all it was a community, for the customers, for the long time employees, and especially for all of us. This was where we worked, where we hung out. It was like a smaller version of our town. And I guess I should tell you about the town, 'cause Ellington is pretty important to this story as well. Ellington, Connecticut was a town everyone always said had more cows than people, and even if they wouldn't admit it, it was somethin' they were proud of. It was one of the last of its kind, an old fashioned family farm town. I've lived in Ellington my whole life, and it seemed as though the town and the Supermarket always stayed the same. They stood the test of time, almost immortal. Or at least, that's what I had thought. Bus as usually happens in these stories unfortunately, that was all about to change...
CAPTION: And with the holidays came memories of childhood. [Speaking to the camera.] Dejected husband: And... and when I was a kid I always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, alweez, alweezelweasel, weasel, weasel... When I was a kid I was such a fucking weasel and I nnhhh... [Bangs his head into the camera.]
Rather, Dan: Some people get excited about going to Las Vegas now, or maybe Monte Carlo. Well, for us, getting to go to Galveston maybe once over the summer maybe twice, but this was our Las Vegas, this was our Monte Carlo. Not because we gambled, or anything but just go to the beach. Galveston has this wonderful long blond beach. I know sometimes it's gray but to us it was always blond. And the sound of the washing of the waves, that I can remember from one of my earliest memories was hearing the waves washing up against some of the piers that were built out and against the seawall.
Sydney Wells: There have been cases of transplant recipients who've actually shown characteristics of the donor. Dr. Paul Faulkner: Right, that's cellular memory. Sydney Wells: Yeah. There was a liver transplantation in Kentucky last year. She almost immediately felt the urge to take up smoking and she hadn't her entire life. Dr. Paul Faulkner: The donor was a chain smoker? Sydney Wells: Down to the same brand. And a few years ago, this little girl helped the police solve the murder of the person she got her heart from, she kept having visions of the crime. There's some kind of a chemical, it's uh... Dr. Paul Faulkner: Peptides, that's how the mind and body communicate. Sydney Wells: So it's not too big a leap to suggest that memories can also be accessed from these organs too.
Mace: Memories are meant to fade. They're designed that way for a reason.
Reverend Mike: [after listening to a story Peter was telling the team] You know, Peter... I think that's the first time I've heard you mention your dad since you've been back. Peter: Well... I guess there are a few good memories left. Reverend Mike: Oh, I'd say there's a lot more than just a few. That was a great story, Pete.
Michael Moore: [narrating] This is Matt Stone. He grew up in Littleton and has fond memories of Columbine. Matt Stone: Yeah, Columbine, it's just, you know, a crappy school in the middle of a bunch of crappy houses.
[Marcus has Kraven pinned to the wall by his talons] Kraven: Marcus? Marcus: The blood memories of this wretched creature... [indicates Singe's body] Marcus: ...have shown me that your treachery knows no bounds. Kraven: My lord, I can explain. Marcus: Why would I listen to your lies when the journey to the truth... is so much sweeter? [Marcus bites into his neck, and see's visions of Kraven's past, including his bargain with Lucian and Selene killing Viktor] Kraven: Please. I can assist you. Marcus: [smiles] Oh, you already have. [he pulls his talons free, then swipes Kraven's head off.]
[first lines] Teen on Skateboard: Oh, shit. Thanks. I didn't see that. Sydney Wells: Neither did I. Sydney Wells: [voice-over while Sydney walks in the street and settles in a café] People say seeing is believing, but for me, that's not entirely true. I lost my sight when I was five years old. Those memories of what I have seen have faded so much that I doubt I'd even recognize myself anymore. Now I see using my other senses. I can smell the rain before it drops, but I can't watch it fall. I can feel the sun on my face, but I can't see it rise or set. I want to see the world like everyone else, to see the sun, the rain, the music. Oh I bet music looks beautiful.
Robert Evans: There are three sides to every story: Your side, my side, and the truth. And no one is lying. Memories shared serve each differently.
Krug: So, do you guys live here permanently? Emma Collingwood: Oh, no. We actually live in the city. Sadie: How many houses do you have? Emma Collingwood: [uncomfortable] So what are you guys doing out here anyways? This is kind of in the middle of nowhere. Are you on a family vacation? Or... Krug: Well it's kind of embarrassing, actually. My dad used to take Francis and me to this lake every summer; do some fishing, go camping. Now that he's gone, those memories are all I really have left of him. Basically I'm just trying to do the same thing for Justin here. Emma Collingwood: I think that's important. It's nice making memories. Krug: [laughing] Don't know if I want to remember today. Emma Collingwood: You might. You never know. You're all safe. You're together. That's what counts. Krug: Amen, Emma. Amen.
Celine: Memories are wonderful things, if you don't have to deal with the past.
Penny: All my memories begin here, in the pages of my sister's book. Looking back I remember how Mary filled it with laughter, smiles, and magic. But I didn't understand any of that, I only believed in forgetting until Mary taught me how to turn the pages of my own life.
Caroline Sexton: [after he has just suggested splitting fifty fifty of their estate, i.e. debt] Fifty-fifty. Not on your LIFE! Brad Sexton: Then it'll get UGLY. Caroline Sexton: Good! I can do ugly! [turns and walks away] Caroline Sexton: I've done YOU for the last ten years! Brad Sexton: ...If memories serve, you stopped doing me after six and a half! [pause] Brad Sexton: Happy anniversary, honey! Caroline Sexton: [offscreen] FUCK OFF! Brad Sexton: [dryly] Okay.
Kay: I've just been down the gullet of an interstellar cockroach. That's one of a hundred memories I don't want.
Arklon: I shall feed on your memories and know all that you know.
Christie Roberts: Are your memories of my father good? Max Skinner: No they are extraordinary. My uncle loved women, although no one for a long time, and he never married. He loved England, yet lived in France. He was an adventurer, yet all my memories take place within 100 steps of this spot.
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