Quotes About Memory

Just as there exists in writing a literal truth and a poetic truth, there also exists in a human being a literal anatomy and a poetic anatomy. One, you can see; one, you cannot. One is made of bones and teeth and flesh; the other is made of energy and memory and faith. But they are both equally true.

He said, Just as there exists in writing a literal truth and a poetic truth, there also exists in a human being a literal anatomy and a poetic anatomy. One, you can see; one, you cannot. One is made of bones and teeth and flesh; the other is made of energy and memory and faith. But both are equally true.

But this is a city that gets born anew in the fresh eyes of every young person who arrives here for the first time. So that city, that place—newly created for my eyes only—will never exist again. It is preserved forever in my memory like an orchid trapped in a paperweight. That city will always be my perfect New York.

With death, all suffering would end. Doubt would end. Shame and guilt would end. All her questions would end. Memory—most mercifully of all—would end. She could quietly excuse herself from life.

Mercifully my dear Edna, said Peg, I do not remember anything I have ever said in my entire life.

the problem with stage actresses is that once they are gone, they are forgotten. If you never saw her perform onstage, then you would not be able to understand her power and appeal.

But this is a city that gets born anew in the fresh eyes of every young person who arrives here for the first time. So that city, that place—newly created for my eyes only—will never exist again. It is preserved forever in my memory like an orchid trapped in a paperweight. That city will always be my perfect New York. You can have your perfect New York, and other people can have theirs—but that one will always be mine. —

Then I walk back over the bridge, through the old Jewish ghetto

There were times when she looked up from her labors to ask her mother a question - looking over to the chair where Beatrix had always sat - and was startled by the nothingness to be found there. It was like looking at a spot on a wall where a clock had hung for years, and seeing only an empty space. She could not train herself not to look; the emptiness surprised her every time.

en un ser humano también existe una anatomía literal y una anatomía poética. Una se ve; la otra, no. Una está hecha de huesos y dientes y carne; la otra está hecha de energía y memoria y fe. Pero ambas son igual de verdaderas».

It was like looking at a spot on a wall where a clock had hung for years, and seeing only an empty space. She could not train herself not to look; the emptiness surprised her every time.

If I'd known then what I know now—namely: that so many of those beautiful young boys would soon be lost to the battlefields of Europe or to the infernos of the South Pacific—I would have had sex with even more of them. If it sounds like I'm being facetious, I'm not.

The time we spent together happened outside of the world, is how it felt.

Mercifullym my dear Edna, said Peg, I do not remember anything I have ever said in my entire life.

Maximus," she whispered, all moonlight and strength. "I love you. Never forget that.

Now, now, said Vale in a sickeningly sweet voice reminiscent of a nursery nanny. I already gave him a drubbing for courting Emmie. Reynaud raised his eyebrows. You did? He did not, Hartley said even as Vale nodded happily. I threw him down the stairs. Vale pursed his lips and looked skyward. Not my recollection, but I can see how your memory of the event may've become hazy.

Whatever else came tomorrow and for the rest of her life, she would have this moment: this one point in time when she was intimately linked to Maximus. Maximus the man.

You tend a wound nearly as well as you dance. Her blue-gray gaze flicked up to his, wide with surprise. I wasn't sure if you recognized me from the ball. This was intimate, her face so close to his. He naked and she with the upper slopes of her breasts uncovered. He felt hazy with desperate temptation. He could smell her, above the scent of his own blood- a faint flower scent. Not cedarwood, thank God. You're hard to forget, he murmured.

Remember how we once lay together, love? Remember how we became lovers and hoped for a future? That future is alive and here. And taking his hand, she laid it upon her gently swelling belly, where a new life grew. Thus she made him touch Hope

She swallowed. He was covered, of course, but she knew what lay beneath the sheets- she'd seen him entirely nude at the Lords' revels. She had the image burned into her memory: a proud, thick penis, heavy sac, and curling midnight hair. If the coverlet slipped just a little bit downward, she would see the upper edge of that nest of black hair. The thought made her press her thighs together under her dress. Did he know how his body affected her?

now she couldn't quite remember the face of the boy whose

My guess is that he remembers some of me, some of us together, and the rest rolled off him like topsoil in a flash flood.

There are people who stick in one's memory much more clearly after a brief acquaintance than others whom one sees day after day after a long period.

History it seemed could be something entirely different a splash of blood whose agony didn't fade overnight or over centuries.