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" Concepts of memory tend to reflect the technology of the times. Plato and Aristotle saw memories as thoughts inscribed on wax tablets that could be erased easily and used again. These days, we tend to think of memory as a camera or a video recorder, filming, storing, and recycling the vast troves of data we accumulate throughout our lives. In practice, though, every memory we retain depends upon a chain of chemical interactions that connect millions of neurons to one another. Those neurons never touch; instead, they communicate through tiny gaps, or synapses, that surround each of them. Every neuron has branching filaments, called dendrites, that receive chemical signals from other nerve cells and send the information across the synapse to the body of the next cell. The typical human brain has trillions of these connections. When we learn something, chemicals in the brain strengthen the synapses that connect neurons. Long-term memories, built from new proteins, change those synaptic networks constantly; inevitably, some grow weaker and others, as they absorb new information, grow more powerful. "
― Michael Specter
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" Only once in your life, I trulybelieve, you find someone whocan completely turn your worldaround. You tell them things thatyou’ve never shared with anothersoul and they absorb everythingyou say and actually want to hearmore. You share hopes for thefuture, dreams that will nevercome true, goals that were neverachieved and the manydisappointments life has thrownat you. When somethingwonderful happens, you can’twait to tell them about it, knowingthey will share in yourexcitement. They are notembarrassed to cry with youwhen you are hurting or laughwith you when you make a fool ofyourself. Never do they hurt yourfeelings or make you feel like youare not good enough, but ratherthey build you up and show youthe things about yourself thatmake you special and evenbeautiful. There is never anypressure, jealousy or competitionbut only a quiet calmness whenthey are around. You can beyourself and not worry aboutwhat they will think of youbecause they love you for who youare. The things that seeminsignificant to most people suchas a note, song or walk becomeinvaluable treasures kept safe inyour heart to cherish forever.Memories of your childhood comeback and are so clear and vividit’s like being young again.Colours seem brighter and morebrilliant. Laughter seems part ofdaily life where before it wasinfrequent or didn’t exist at all. Aphone call or two during the dayhelps to get you through a longday’s work and always brings asmile to your face. In theirpresence, there’s no need forcontinuous conversation, but youfind you’re quite content in justhaving them nearby. Things thatnever interested you beforebecome fascinating because youknow they are important to thisperson who is so special to you.You think of this person on everyoccasion and in everything youdo. Simple things bring them tomind like a pale blue sky, gentlewind or even a storm cloud on thehorizon. You open your heartknowing that there’s a chance itmay be broken one day and inopening your heart, youexperience a love and joy that younever dreamed possible. You findthat being vulnerable is the onlyway to allow your heart to feeltrue pleasure that’s so real itscares you. You find strength inknowing you have a true friendand possibly a soul mate who willremain loyal to the end. Lifeseems completely different,exciting and worthwhile. Youronly hope and security is inknowing that they are a part ofyour life. "
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" He had also been demonstrative and intelligent from the very beginning, his questions startlingly insightful. She would watch him absorb a new idea and wonder what effect it would have on him, because, with Edgar, EVERYTHING came out, eventually, somehow. But the PROCESS – how he put together a story about the world’s workings – that was mysterious beyond all ken. In a way, she thought, it was the only disappointing thing about having a child. She’d imagined he would stay transparent to her, more PART of her, for so much longer. But despite the proximity of the daily work, Edgar had ceased long before to be an open book. A friend, yes. A son she loved, yes. But when it came to knowing his thoughts, Edgar could be opaque as a rock. "
― David Wroblewski , The Story of Edgar Sawtelle