Quotes About Memory

People will forget what you said, but no one will ever forget how you made them to feel

I kiss her ghost, and sleep with the dust on her photograph, next to my bedside.

I Cannot Remember You...engulfed in liquid amnesiaI cannot fight the tide

I cannot remember you when the rain flows down -I cannot remember youandmy heart begins to drown ...

Even after she was gone, he passed her place each day: something white in a high window - not a face, but the white belly of a pigeon beating its wingsagainst the pane in the boarded-up house.

Sinto que há uma estranha eternidade naquilo que amámos e foi destruído.(I feel that there lies a strange eternity in that which we loved but has been destroyed.)

After she was gone, I sheathed her sword at my belt, draped her cloak over my shoulders, carried her heart in my arms, and, somehow, went on.

I miss you so much. Maybe if I say your name over and over again, it will eventually feel wrong to me. Like a word you write too many times suddenly doesn't look right anymore. I will try that.

Nothing is lost that love remembers.

What is deeply felt is never lost.

He lives vividly in her recollections, however, and his memory is etched on her soul.

A geiko's kimono is a work of art and I would never wear a kimono that wasn't absolutely perfect. All the kimono worn by maiko and geiko are one of a kind. Many of them are given names, like paintings, and are treasured as such. This is why I have such a vivid memory of everything I ever wore.

Am urmele unui trecut care, nu numai c? e mort, ca orice trecut, dar care n-a transmis nimic epocilor care au venit dup? el. Trecut f?r? urma?i.

De aceea am plecat pe front, pentru c? ÅŸtiam c? altminteri, dac? nu mor acolo, va fi mult mai grav, voi afla într-o zi, c?, pentru tine, am murit de mult...

Te trezeÅŸti c? ai devenit ceva, aproape f?r? s?-Å£i mai aminteÅŸti începuturile acestei transform?ri.

În acea clip?, Egor se deÈ™tept? brusc. ÎÈ™i amintea cu o extraordinar? precizie fiecare am?nunt al visului. Nu mai era însp?imântat. Toat? fiinÈ›a lui era r?v??it? ca dup? un mare efort.

Am uitat de mult gustul atâtor trupuri pe care le-am cunoscut. Asta se întâmpl? aproape tuturor b?rbaÅ£ilor : s? n-aib? amintiri calde, s? nu mai p?streze nimic din toat? magia aceea a dragostei fizice

Every homeland constitutes a sacred geography. For those who have left it, the city of their childhood and adolescence always becomes a mythical city.

Why does the mention of love, the memory of love, the memory of love lost, the promise of love, the end of love, the absence of love, the burning, burning need for love, need to love, result in so much violence?

I have videos of Grandma on my cellphone. In one I asked her what will happen to her body after she dies. She says ahhhhh, my body! My body will become energy that will light your path.

Maybe she was enjoying a moment in her life, a sliver of light, a flash memory of one of her kids, something sweet and approaching reality.

What was my first word? I asked him, and he said: Don't. I asked him what my second word was but he couldn't remember. I think I'd have made something up if I was him. Like go.

I sat on my Dad's bed and flipped through the page after empty page. No stamps. No exotic locales. No travel-worn smudges or creases. Just the ID information and my mother's black and white photo which if it where used in a psychology textbook on the meaning of facial expressions would be labelled: Obscenely, heartbreakingly hopeful

She told me that the brain is built to forget things as we continue to live, that memories are meant to fade and disintegrate, that skin, so protective in the beginning because it has to be to protect our organs, saga eventually - because the organs aren't so hot anymore either - and sharp edges become blunt, that the pain of letting go of grief is just as panful or even more painful than the grief itself.