Quotes About Memory

They asked 'do you love her to death?' I said 'speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.

There is no desert in the memory I have of you And no enemies from now on for the rose That bursts forth from the ruins of your house!

Take me back to where I was before I met you, then leave

If you asked me how many times you came in my mind, I would say once. Because you came, and never left.

There is no tomorrow in This desert except what we saw yesterday

March roses shall burn me in the land where I was first born. / Pomegranate blossoms will conceive of me, / and I will be born from it once more.

They asked, "do you love her to death?" I said, "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.

And I want I want to live And to forget you

they asked "do you love her to death? i said "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

During infancy, oxytocin focuses your brain on remembering the characteristics of the people who raise you and linking these cues with stress relief, even if your caregivers are inconsistent or cruel. Consequently

Love at first sight was a common romantic theme, but he could not recall reading about love at the umpteenth thousandth meeting

Yo no le había puesto nombre. No tenía palabras. Creía que si no hablaba no existía. Las cosas que no se nombran se olvidan o desaparecen. Por eso me costaba tanto explicárselo a alguien

So? You think people stop talking to you when they are dead?

Yes, I still think of him as that, call him that. It's as real as any of his other names.

History is a people's memory, and without a memory, man is demoted to the lower animals.

All around these streets , the dead and forgotten - mostly travellers born three thousand miles away, and four hundred years once dreamed and schemed, full of sound and fury. They were real and vital, as yet undimmed by posterity, and lived and loved with every imaginable kind of human feeling until at last they returned to dust.

Her father is dead. . . . Now she must never mention his name again. No one will ever mention his name. She must try not to think about him. He is dead.

That was the remarkable thing about paper, you can leave it lying in the back of the cupboard drawer for years and when you take it out it retains a trace of scent, sometimes enough to ambush the heart with the memory of a long-lost love.

And things go unsaid soon get forgotten

And round and round and round. Why couldn't I get past the letter? Like poison id had seeped into every image and every memory I kept of Callum, polluting them until I couldn't tell which was real and what was just wishful thinking any more. Until at last, I was forced to face the inescapable fact that, for whatever reason, Callum had written the letter.

It is not that I dwell on the past. But the past shapes the way we are in the present and the way we will become what we are destined to become. It is only because I have finally understood the past, accepted it, embraced it, that I can fully live in the moment. And hardly a moment goes by when I don't think about Emmett, and the lessons a son can teach a mother.

Maybe you and I and the fish exist only in the memory of a person who is gone. Maybe no one really exists, and it's only raining outside. Maybe the bird never existed at all. -Boy (Angel's Egg)

It takes time to heal the pain of loss, and then it takes time to heal the memory of the pain, and the belief that honour requires us to hold that pain for ever. Then it takes more time to find that the loves of our past can still be loved, that something new – or something old, rewoven – does not diminish them. And then while we may know that to be true for others, while we see it in others and want to speak of it daily, it is harder to see it equally in ourselves.

Undankbarkeit beginnt mit dem Vergessen. Aus Vergessen folgt Gleichgültigkeit, aus der Gleichgültigkeit Unzufriedenheit, aus der Unzufriedenheit Verzweiflung, aus der Verzweiflung der Fluch.