Quotes About Memory

But you don't belong here! You're dead!I sobbed against his chest. Zo,babe,this is the Otherworld. It's not me who doesn't belong here-it's you. Memory crashed over me, drowning me with despair and darkness and reality as my world shattered,and evrything went black.

I want you to live as you would be remembered if you would die tomorrow

I want you to live as you would be remembered if you would die tomorrow, because you might. Then if you do die, your spirit can rest peacefully knowing that you leave behind an honourable memory. If you do not die, then you will have set the foundation for a long life rich with integrity.

It began with a memory. Decades, and then centuries fell away leaving Lenobia young and naïve again, and in the cargo hold of the ship that had carried her from France to America—from one world to another. It was during that journey that Lenobia had met Martin, the man who should have been her Mate for his entire life. Instead he had died too young and had taken her love to the grave with him.

We Woosters do not lightly forget. At least, we do - some things - appointments, and people's birthdays, and letters to post, and all that - but not an absolutely bally insult like the above.

One of the Georges - I forget which - once said that a certain number of hours' sleep each night - I cannot recall at the moment how many - made a man something which for the time being has slipped my memory.

One of the King Georges of England–I forget which–once said that a certain number of hours' sleep each night–I cannot recall at the moment how many–made a man something, which for the time being has slipped my memory.

Change of scene is the thing. I head of a man. Girl refused him. Man went abroad. Two months later girl wired him Come back, Muriel. Man started to write out a reply; suddenly found that he couldn't remember girl's surname; so never answered at all, and lived happily ever after.

I merely called for my hat and stick in a marked manner and legged it. But the memory rankled, if you know what I mean. We Woosters do not lightly forget. At least, we do - some things - appointments, and people's birthdays, and letters to post, and all that - but not an absolute bally insult like the above. I brooded like the dickens.

What on earth are you doing in Paris? I asked. Bertie, old man, said Biffy solemnly, I came here to try and forget. Well, you've certainly succeeded.

When Nature makes a chump like dear old Bobbie, she's proud of him, and doesn't want her handiwork disturbed. She gives him a sort of natural armour to protect him against outside interference. And that armour is shortness of memory. Shortness of memory keeps a man a chump, when, but for it, he might cease to be one.

I went into the kitchen ten minutes back. The cat was sitting on the mat. Beale's narrative style closely resembled that of a certain book I had read in my infancy. I wish I could remember its title. It was a well-written book.

A man who forgets what day he was married, when he's been married one year, will forget, at about the end of the fourth, that he's married at all.

Of course I think so. Have you forgotten what I told you the other day?' 'Yes,' said Lord Emsworth. He always forgot what people told him the other day.

Aunt Agatha is like an elephant- not so much to look at, for in appearance she resembles more a well-bred vulture, but because she never forgets.

distance lends enchantment to the view

Humour, if one looks into it, is principally a matter of retrospect.

One of the King Georges of England, I forget which, once said that a certain number of hours' sleep each night—I cannot recall at the moment how many—made a man something, which for the time being has slipped my memory. Baxter agreed with him. It went against all his instincts to sit up in this fashion; but it was his duty and he did it.

INTERVIEWER: Did you always know you would be a writer? WODEHOUSE: Yes, always. I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don't remember what I did before that. Just loafed, I suppose.

Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

If suddenly you do not exist, If suddenly you are not living, I shall go on living. I do not dare, I do not dare to write it, if you die. I shall go on living.

Each in the most hidden sack kept the lost jewels of memory, intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses, the fragment of public or private happiness. A few, the wolves, collected thighs, other men loved the dawn scratching mountain ranges or ice floes, locomotives, numbers. For me happiness was to share singing, praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes. I ask forgiveness for my bad ways: my life had no use on earth.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.

Entre los labios y la voz, algo se va muriendo. Algo con alas de pájaro, algo de angustia y de olvido