Quotes About Memories

For some life lasts a short while, but the memories it holds last forever.

I believe that consciously choosing to create such memories will stretch the experience of time.

La diversión que implica esfuerzo es lo que hace que el día de hoy sea distinto y que aterrice en la memoria.

Rich memories can expand time both as they are being created and in the rearview mirror.

The more golden the memories became, so of course the loss seemed even greater.

too. "Grandma makes the best pies." "Me pie too." Carl banged his

I shut my eyes and feel the memories crowding in again. My breath leaks out and time goes backward with it.

I miss your smile… but I miss mine more.

She remembered once, years back, she and Deen had snuck away on a Changing night and made a bed in the high grass of the prairie, with their blankets and pillows. When they'd woken up, there had been a mouse, chewing on the pillow between them, and Deen had screamed so loud that Jinny's ears rang.

You can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world where my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death.

Losing Bogey was horrible, obviously. Because he was young. And because he gave me my life. I wouldn't have had a -- I don't know what would have happened to me if I hadn't met him -- I would have had a completely different kind of life. He changed me, he gave me everything. And he was an extraordinary man.

When everything happens to you when you're so young, you're very lucky, but by the same token, you're never going to have that same feeling again. The first time anything happens to you - your first love, your first success - the second one is never the same.

Childhood anxieties, childhood fears, never disappear entirely. They fade, but not away.

He takes a chicken tender and dunks it into the honey mustard. Something about that makes me sad. Because all the little things about him, like the way he loves honey mustard and the way he always forgets the cheese on my burger, aren't mine anymore. It's weird that everything can be the same, that he can go on liking honey mustard, and yet everything is different.

Listen, I'm sorry to bother you when you're obviously busy with, uh, important things, " B. J. Says. He sounds sarcastic. "But you remember a few months ago, when we scored that pot for Brian Turner?" "Sort of, " I say, wondering if it would be going too far to call B. J. "pookie" or "schmooper. " I want Courtney to be jealous, but I also don't want her thinking I'm a pussy. Which is really fucked up, since, you know, I'm the one that broke up with her.

And then the crack seals up and I'm back on familiar ground, and I remember to miss my friend, and I am relieved.

don't cry because it's over. smile because it happened.

In fifty years, we'll be like those old men who spend hours at all-day breakfast diners. We'll have big ears and tufting sprouts of nose hair, and we'll guffaw at everything the other says. Heh-heh-heh, you know it, Roby. Pass the damn ham.

Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging up your back and runing its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do-the only thing-is run.

I found some way to recovery. But I know, have always known, that I could go back. Mysterious neurons collide and break. The brain bruises. Memories you thought were buried rise up.

When I was a girl I loved fevers and flus and the muzzy feeling of a head cold, all these states carrying with them the special accoutrements of illness, the thermometer with its lovely line of red mercury, the coolness of ice chips pressed to a sweaty forehead, and best of all, a distant mother coming to your bedside with tea.

But Grandpop wasn't like other men.

First loves were powerful and private,and they stayed with you for a very long time. A lifetime.(...) There would always be a small,intimate piece of your heart tucked away for the person you loved first.

Within our very cells we carry genetic memories of ancestral incarnations. If we awaken these atavisms to conscious life, we can take on their attributes and qualities. These atavistic powers have been known for millennia as: animal totems, helping spirits, maybe even the Gods and Goddesses themselves!