Life & Wisdom Quote by Marjorie Holmes

Holmes takes a scalpel to a sentimental idea and finds something colder, stranger, and more human: feeling isn’t just a reflex to the present, it’s an afterimage machine. “Entangled” does the heavy lifting. It’s not “influenced by” or “colored by” memory, as if you could peel the past off your emotions like a label. Entanglement suggests knots you can’t simply untie: grief that reappears because a smell trips a scene; joy that arrives pre-mixed with nostalgia; anger that isn’t about today’s slight so much as an old humiliation reactivated.

The line flatters humans only in the way a mirror flatters by being honest. Animals feel fear, attachment, pleasure; Holmes’ point is that humans feel them with an archive running in the background, constantly cross-referencing. Memory becomes an emotional operating system, shaping not just what we feel but what we think we’re allowed to feel. You can love someone and still resent them for a version of them that exists only in your mind. You can dread a perfectly safe room because it resembles an unsafe one.

Context matters: Holmes wrote in an era saturated with self-help moral clarity and domestic realism, when psychology had seeped into everyday language without becoming academic. The sentence reads like a compact of that mid-century worldview: inner life as both burden and responsibility. The subtext is a warning disguised as observation. If your emotions are bound to memory, you’re never reacting to a single moment; you’re negotiating with your entire personal history. That’s dignity, and it’s also trouble.