Quotes About Memory

a quotation that had been her favorite, written by the poet she most admired. Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality. Unbeknownst to Jet, Franny had added another line beneath her sister's name. Beloved by all.

They believed that remembering someone could bring them back to you long after they had departed, if you only concentrated hard enough, if you stood outside on a windy night and tried to count every star sprinkled across the universe like rice on a table or stones in a lake, like bones in a body or snowdrops in the grass.

Even now as the graves of these women went untended, and their passings unmourned, the seeds they had scattered turned the hillsides red and orange from May to September. Some called the pirates' bounty flame trees, but to us they were known as flamboyant trees, for no one could ignore their glorious blooms, with flowers that were larger than a man's open hand. Every time I saw them I thought of these lost women. That was what happened if you waited for love.

Do you think your mother came back? Shelby asks him. Definitely. She's a cardinal who lives in my backyard.

No matter what, the past would follow around. A sorry soul that only grew heavier in each town. She couldn't run away.

I wrote Seventh Heaven for my mother who I miss every day From Facebook post

For a very long time I believed that when we left our home, we left my mother as well. Where our village had stood the burned fields would again become green and her flesh would be in every blade of grass.

Although my father had never been there, I came to believe I would someday see that city for him.

Lately, she's been wondering if perhaps when the living become the dead they leave an empty space behind, a hollow that no one else can fill. She was lucky once, for a very brief time. Maybe she should just be grateful for that.

Well, I think of life as a novel. You can't just hop out of the mess you're in and into another story. You carry it all with you.

wouldn't it be more likely that time was the element a spirit would be attached to? That would mean a ghost is an entity that can't let go of what was and isn't anymore.

When you have lost your mother you have lost the world. You can sit in the garden and see nothing at all, not the woman on the garden bench watching over you, not the boy who refuses to leave you, even when you tell him to go. Your grief won't go away; it's not a door you can close, or a book you can put back on the shelf, or a kiss you can give back once it is given. This is the way the world is now. Keep the worst things to yourself, like a bone in your throat.

He thought about where it was people went when they died, & how when he squinted he could see Cody, racing back & forth, barking, how his father seemed to stand right there on the riverbank, turning back the bees, closer than he'd ever been before.

All the same, some things stay with you forever. You are a different person now. You know it and I know it. You're not the same. You're a survivor. Congratulations.

You cannot bring back those who have stepped into the next world, and should you try, they would not be the same beings that had once been, but rather they would become unnatural creatures, created by dark magic and desire.

Evan's head was filled with the sound of water. He thought of the ghost in the grass, her blue dress and bare feet. He thought of the way the doves had flown up into the sky all in a rush, startled by gunfire, and then all he could think was that despite everything that happened, he was alive.

If you are loved, you never lose the person who loved you. You carry them with you all your life. They were with her as she ran.

You don't forget the people you love," she told him. "That's what I've realized. They just get farther away. Like a spyglass turned around.

It's amazing what you can block out when you really try. Although some things stay with you no matter what they affect everything that you do.

some things you carry around inside you as though they were part of your blood and bones, and when that happens, there's nothing you can do to forget.

The past stays with a man, sticking to his heels like glue, invisible and heartbreaking and unavoidable, threaded to the future, just as surely as day is sewn to night.

I would watch his footprints when he went and mourn him before he was gone.

Her vision was going, but she could see him, the way people see clouds-beautiful, racing by, casting shadows.

That was history, in his opinion: that sorrow was unalterable and ever present. That tears could be preserved in the hardest granite.