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If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.

All things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.

But my thoughts ran a wool-gathering; and I did like the countryman, who looked for his ass while he was mounted on his back.

Nobody is forgotten when it is convenient to remember him.

The pyramids themselves, doting with age, have forgotten the names of their founders.

A man must get a thing before he can forget it.

The wind blows out, the bubble dies; The spring entomb'd in autumn lies; The dew dries up; the star is shot; The flight is past--and man forgot.

God of our fathers, known of old, Lord of our far-flung battle-line, Beneath whose awful Hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine-- Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies, The captains and the kings depart; Still stands thine ancient sacrifice, A humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet Lest we forget,--lest we forget.

God and I both knew what it meant once; now God alone knows.

Forgotten? No, we never do forget: We let the years go; wash them clean with tears, Leave them to bleach out in the open day, Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes, Till we shall dare unfold them without pain,-- But we forget not, never can forget.

Mistakes remember'd are not faults forgot. - Robert H. Newell ,

God and the Doctor we alike adore But only when in danger, not before; The danger o'er, both are alike requited, God is forgotten, and the Doctor slighted.

To the sick man the physician when he enters seems to have three faces, those of a man, a devil, a god. When the physician first comes and announces the safety of the patient, then the sick man says: "Behold a God or a guardian angel!"

Our God and soldier we alike adore, When at the brink of ruin, not before; After deliverance both alike requited, Our God forgotten, and our soldiers slighted.

We bury love, Forgetfulness grows over it like grass; That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away; Agayne I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tyde and made my paynes his prey.

It is sometimes expedient to forget what you know.

It is sometimes expedient to forget who we are.

We may with advantage forget what we know.