Our terrible memories of the Don, and the retreat from Belgorod belonged to the past, and to bad times which wouldn't come back.

That memory belonged to Davies; he trusted it.

Spock's own memories, his life, everything he was or wanted, belonged to Omne now.

The memories, of whatever kind, belong to both of us.

They were where memories didn't belong.

They were like children with countless parents, whose memories belonged both to others and to self.

Those memories don't belong to me.

Those memories belonged to the past.

Those memories belonged to another ffme, to an uncivilized time, when men became what they were not in order to survive.

My memory belongs entirely to you, because it reverts constantly these days to our first moments alone together.