Quotes About Memory

No one is truly lost when they remain in the hearts and minds of those wwho love them

Kiss me again. Let me imagine for a moment that you belong to me. The memory will keep me company in my solitude.

Still, she experienced a pang, like a spasm in an organ that had been removed or a cramp in a phantom limb. It faded quickly, and she knew that was the last pain of its kind she would feel. A woman much like her had once loved a man who looked like him. Neither of those people existed anymore.

Where am I?" mumbled Luz. "You're tied up in a homicidal smuggler's haunted mansion," I informed her. "I remember now. My mom's going to be pissed.

Miss Strike. It's nice to see you again. It looks as if you turned out to be dangerous after all." "You remember." Kiki was impressed. "I would never forget a student," said Principal Wickham. "Particularly one with such unusual ambitions.

She holds within her the memory of this journey, drawn out for her like a constellation in the darkness, each element of the landscape connecting her along a line that is her past. Carter may want to come here now, but she's the one who belongs, on this road, under this piece of sky.

First cuts are deepest

Oh dear. I don't think I'm explaining this very well. I wish I could remember what Mother said when she told me—it made sense then." Light dawned. "You mean—the visitor? The little man who sweeps you out?" "What?" Shyly Norah told Flo what Aunt Florence had said. "No wonder you didn't understand! What a stupid way to tell you.

My novel is about the history of the world, told from the point of view of a column of stone.

D'habitude les femmes tzignes ne sont pas musiciennes, mais la fille de Kosta, Tinka, faisait exception. Elle avait pratiqué secrètement le violon, et à l'âge de dix ans elle surprit toute la tribu d'un exploit qu'ils n'oublieraient jamais.

Voor een schrijver is het geheugen bijna alles. Het opgespaarde materiaal wordt er niet alleen maar opgeslagen. Het meest waardevolle wordt er als in een toverzeef achtergehouden. Stof en molm vallen erdoor en worden door de wind weggevoerd en slechts het goudzand blijft achter. En daarmee worden dan kunstwerken gemaakt.

By then she was dead. In fact, she may have been dead a while ago. Physically, several seconds ago, mentally, ages ago.

To memorize something, it's best to write it down.

Aingeal , there is only one thing on my body that's ten inches long, and if you'll recall, the scar is no' it.

What you remember... is not what they think you will remember, it is often not

Well, you don't really forget the crap, do you? ... You might put a blanket over it & push it to the back of your mind, but that doesn't really make it go away.

She knows she will remember these last moments with her Mother every single day for the rest of her own life.

I have tried very hard over the years to let you know how much I love you, & how I have treasured your place in my life. I choose no formal service because I know that death does not erase my memory in your life, & I suspect that you will not be gone from my lingering spirit either. ... Celebrate! I say! Life, death, living and this process of dying that parallels our lives every single moment.

Hope, like every virtue, is a choice that becomes a habit that becomes spiritual muscle memory.

Hope, like every virtue, is a choice that becomes a practice that becomes spiritual muscle memory. It's a renewable resource for moving through life as it is, not as we wish it to be.

Then before he could break the moment, before he could turn away, I kissed him, and he didn't stop me. Instead, he pushed my hair out of my face, and he kissed me back, gently, sweetly, his hand slipping behind my head, his lips moving just right against mine, smooth and warm. I gripped his shirt and sighed against his mouth, and knew that as long as I lived, this would be the one perfect kiss that I'd remember forever.

Well, you always remember people who hurt your feelings.

I used to have nightmares about normal stuff – people chasing me or falling. But then about three years ago they started changing and becoming more…um…real? And harder to forget.

Alert. Aware. Dreams and memories slip away. Thoughts tumble. Tangled. Confused. Sounds from my mouth are primal. What I want to say, what I need to say stays locked inside.