Quotes About Memories

Non è bello essere bambini: è bello da anziani pensare a quando eravamo bambini.

Ca s? suporÅ£i amintirile din copil?rie ale altcuiva trebuie s? fii îndr?gostit de el.

The villages he'd played in were all around us, bright and leafy in the sunshine, nests of stars in the night sky.

Il genio non è scoprire un motivo esterno e trattarlo bene, ma giungere finalmente a possedere la propria esperienza, il proprio corpo, i propri ricordi, il proprio ritmo – ed esprimere, esprimere questo ritmo, fuori dalla limitatezza degli argomenti, della materia, nella perenne fecondità di un pensiero che per definizione non ha fondo.

I liked the faces, too, the same as I'd always seen them; the old wrinkled women, the cautious oxen, the girls with flowers, the roofs of the dove-cotes. It seemed as if only seasons had passed since I saw them last, not years.

We don't remember days,we remember moments.

If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have remembered my last four birthdays.

When I'm old and dying, I plan to look back on my life and say, "Wow, that was an adventure", not, "Wow, I sure felt safe." - Tom Preston-Werner

They exit one by one, or sometimes two by two. You scatter pieces of them on the snow in the woods and then run away as fast as you can, and then you turn and run back towards them, once they're beyond your reach.

I would give most anything to hear my father's talk again, the crash and bang and stop of his language, always hurtling by. I will listen for him forever in the streets of this city.

The cost of war is a lifelong legacy borne by children.

Orwell's words aptly describe the Khmer Rouge: "Big Brother is watching you." Even on the streets of Portland I look over my shoulder. And here I am on these survivors' doorstep, asking them to reveal difficult memories. The Khmer Rouge are a continent away, and yet they are not. Psychologically, they are parasites, like tapeworms that slumber within you, living passively until something stirs them to life. I was asking these subjects to wake those parasites.

How hard it is to hate a person you've once loved.

Grief. It doesn't go away entirely. Some days, you think you've forgotten that you've lost someone important, and other days, it's all you can think about. It comes and goes, like a wave. If you're loved, and if you love, grief is a thing you'll experience eventually. It means you're human, Callie

The history of our grandparents is remembered not with rose petals but in the laughter and tears of their children and their children's children. It is into us that the lives of grandparents have gone. It is in us that their history becomes a future.

Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses.

I have more memories than if I were a thousand years old.

Every relationship has at least one really good day. What I mean is, no matter how sour things go, there's always that day. That day is always in your possession. That's the day you remember. You get old and you think: well, at least I had that day. It happened once. You think all the variables might just line up again. But they don't. Not always. I once talked to a woman who said, "Yeah, that's the day we had an angel around.

The point is that although love may die, what is said on its behalf cannot be consumed by the passage of time, and forgiveness is everything.

The floor behind the driver's seat was littered with eight-tracks, but at night it was always Frampton Comes Alive!

these years later and from stirring it up I started having dreams again about the combat, only the dreams were all mixed in with things I started doing for certain people after the war. I was discharged on October 24, 1945, a day before my twenty-fifth birthday, but only according to the calendar.

Mary liked to arrange picnics with the kids, and we'd take them to the Willow Grove Amusement Park. I wasn't always running. When they were smaller I used to take them out. I was very close to Peggy, but she doesn't talk to me any more, not since Jimmy disappeared. The

Many a time Russ reached up and pinched my cheek and said, "You should've been Italian." He's the one named me "The Irishman." Before that they used to call me "Cheech," which is short for Frank in Italian — Francesco. After

My father, Tom Sheeran, would borrow a big old clumsy car with a running board.