I just don’t want them to change me, if I’m going to die I still want to be me.

Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

I want to do die as myself.

Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

We will never cease our critique of those persons who distort the past, rewrite it, falsify it, who exaggerate the importance of one event and fail to mention some other; such a critique is proper (it cannot fail to be), but it doesn’t count for much unless a more basic critique precedes it: a critique of human memory as such. For after all, what can memory actually do, the poor thing? It is only capable of retaining a paltry little scrap of the past, and no one knows why just this scrap and not some other one, since in each of us the choice occurs mysteriously, outside our will or our interests. We won’t understand a thing about human life if we persist in avoiding the most obvious fact: that a reality no longer is what it was when it was; it cannot be reconstructed. Even the most voluminous archives cannot help.

Milan Kundera, Ignorance

A story only matters, I suspect, to the extent that the people in the story change.

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

“Nothing’s ever the same,” she said. “Be it a second later or a hundred years. It’s always churning and roiling. And people change as much as oceans.”

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Politics always change. Stories never do.

Stephen King, It

Things conceived by minds and made by hands can never be quite the same, even if they try their best to be identical, because they’re never the same from day to day or even moment to moment.

Stephen King, Bag of Bones

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