Quotes About Memories

Szcz??liwy cz?owiek nie ma przesz?o?ci, a nieszcz??liwy nie ma nic poza ni?

I am a part of all that I have met.

My parents...were people running from the past, who didn't look back at much if they could help it, and whose whole life always lay somewhere in the offing.

In the thirties, after they were married, they lived simply and only for each other and for the day. They drank some, lived on the road with my father's salesman's job. They had a good time and felt they had little to look back on, and didn't look.

Things you did,things you never did,things you dreamed. After a long time they run together.

Cosas que hiciste. Cosas que nunca hiciste. Cosas que soñaste. Al cabo de un largo tiempo se juntan todas.

We drove up onto the interstate and went toward Spokane, where I had lived once and Arlene had, too, though we didn't know each other then the old days, before marriage and children and divorce, before we met the lives we would eventually lead, and that we would be happy with or not.

Time changes the places that knew us, and if we go back after years, still even then it is not the same spot; the gate swings differently, new thatch has been put on the old gables, the road has been widened, and the sward the driven sheep lingered on has gone. (Wild Flowers)

The laugh tagged on the end of it is forced as well. I smile fractionally. Edged with old pain, but there's a strange comfort to the way it hurts.

Was a time... Sure. And there was another fucking time the summers never seemed to end and you'd never paid for it in your life. Remember that? Time passes, Max - get over it. Skip the fucking nostalgia, let's get where we're at.

She and Torres have history all over the place. Stuck together in the data like tissues on a lap dance cabin floor.

When you know your time in a place is running out, you try to fix such moments in your mind's eye.

So there was a martini- something he hadn't tasted since college- and there was wine, and there was a dinner most remarkable for a meal produced at a camp: smoked mussels (gathered and smoked right there on the island, he learned), ratatouille, a salad with pears and blue cheese, and a three-layer chocolate cake with whipped cream and cherries, all of it made by Greenie's mother, who would not accept a bit of help.

Jocelyn. You'll keep your eyes on me, Princess. I want you to remember this. From now on whenever you look into my eyes I want you to remember how well we fit together.

She'd met Colin on a Monday. She'd kissed him on a Friday. Twelve years later. She sighed. It seemed fairly pathetic.

Memories of childhood were the dreams that stayed with you after you woke.

Every love story is a potential grief story.

You're still in it. You'll always be in it. No, not literally. But in your heart. Nothing ever ends, not if it's gone that deep. You'll always be walking wounded. That's the only choice, after a while. Walking wounded, or dead. Don't you agree?

First love fixes a life for ever: this much I have discovered over the years. It may not outrank subsequent loves, but they will always be affected by its existence.

We muddle along, we let life happen to us, we gradually build up a store of memories. There is the question of accumulation, but not in the sense that Adrian meant, just the simple adding up and adding on of life. And as the poet pointed out, there is a difference between addition and increase.

Though sometimes, first love cauterises the heart, and all any searcher will find thereafter is scar tissue.

Who was it said that memory is what we thought we'd forgotten?

every relationship contains within it the ghosts, or the shadows, of all the other relationships it isn't. All the abandoned alternatives, the forgotten choices, the lives you could have led but didn't and haven't.

He sometimes asked himself a question about life. Which are truer, the happy memories, or the unhappy ones? He decided, eventually, that the question was unanswerable.