Quotes About Memories

Christmas is a time when you get homesick — even when you're home.

One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in a living room where eight or ten people have just opened their Christmas presents. It should not be cleaned up too quickly.

Collect moments, not things.

Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.

buried with love and starshine— a grave ever glowing with memories

Death is a sudden silence — one of those deafening silences that leaves ringing in your ears.

no matter which end-of-life decisions were made, there are always regrets, there is always that guilt — live parts of me holding onto memories of a dying you dead parts of me holding onto living memories of you

A light is from our household gone, A voice we loved is stilled. A place is vacant at our hearth Which never can be filled; A gentle heart, that throbbed but now With tenderness and love, Has hushed its weary throbbings here, To throb in bliss above...

I am all alone in my chamber now, And the midnight hour is near... Over my soul, in its solitude, Sweet feelings of sadness glide; For my heart and my eyes are full, when I think Of the little boy that died...

Once in a young lifetime one should be allowed to have as much sweetness as one can possibly want and hold.

Oh! dear to memory are those hours When every pathway led to flowers; When sticks of peppermint possessed A sceptre's power o'er the breast, And heaven was round us while we fed On rich ambrosial gingerbread.

[B]ut his own vehicle had been a wreck of rust and nostalgia.

The happiest moments of my life have been the few which I have past at home in the bosom of my family.

You smell the lilac and there comes flooding back the memories of the days when you first knew lilacs and carried them about as if they were the queen-flower of the world.

To the Dandelion... My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked with thee...

In four out of every five watches brought us to be regulated, repaired, or cleaned, we find some token. Sometimes it is a bit of ribbon or lock of hair, or a rose petal. But oftener it's a four-leaf clover. The four-leaf clover is a love-token always. It is by the maiden fair given to her lover, who tenderly stows it away in the back of his watch-case.

Probably the scariest thing about cemeteries is that music they play in your head when you drive by one.

The spirits of the dead hallow a house, for me.

Grandmothers are just antique little girls. Grandfathers are just antique little boys.

If you have lived, take thankfully the past; Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.

It was only a few months after their father's death. His loss had left a wound in Darlene's chest that felt physical, a perpetual ache.

Regret is the glue that makes grief stick around for a lifetime.

For the past three months, Darlene had waited for the fact of her father's death to reach every corner of her mind. She had been through this process when Mama died; she knew how it would unfold. Right now, each morning was its own little funeral. She would wake up and listen for Daddy's footsteps, sniff the air for his pipe smoke, open her eyes, and remember. Every morning she lost him...

There is no timetable for grieving — Grief is a snail It's a shooting star A walk around the lake It's eternity Or frost 'til bloom — Memories coursing through the heart It lasts as many heartbeats as it takes; sometimes all of them.