He looked at the fourth man and a small memory stirred in his mind.

Old memories were stirring, and the city began to look more familiar.

A memory stirred but he could not place it so pushed the matter to one side.

That memory stirred another, of his own thoughts about marriage such a short time ago.

A memory stirred at the back of his mind, but it was too distant to identify.

His arms were into the street, and a faint, uneasy memory stirred in my mind.

A memory stirred, but vanished before she could quite grasp it.

Memory stirred in him, and he could not help what he did then.

Seeing those, I found memory stirred, a small prick of fear.

What memories of the great and the famous that stirs in our minds today?