Quotes About Memories

Memories, so sweet and so bitter...they had both nourished and devoured him for so many years.

Come se ogni volta, fra le pagine, rimanesse attaccato qualcosa: sensazioni, pensieri, rumori, odori... E quando a distanza di anni li riapri, ritrovi te stesso, un po' più giovane, un po' diverso, quasi il libro ti avesse conservato come un fiore fatto seccare tra le pagine... un po' estraneo e un po' familiare.»

Faber sniffed the book. "Do you know that books smell like nutmeg or some spice from a foreign land? I loved to smell them when I was a boy." Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

She felt as if the grave stones were whispering those names to her as she walked past... Those stones that bore no names seemed like closed mouths, sad mouths that forgotten how to speak. But perhaps the dead didn't mind what their names had once been?

If dreams are like movies, the memories are films about ghosts.

It was great, wasn't it—because it was ours.

Third, most of Jesus's teachings would have been repeated dozens of times as the disciples followed Christ in his itinerant ministry. If Jesus preached in most or all of the more than 200 villages in Galilee (cf. Matt 9:35; Josephus Life 45.235), his followers who regularly accompanied him could easily have heard his messages often enough to cement them in their memories.

Du bist gerade erst gegangen und schon erscheinen unsere gemeinsamen Orte so viel schöner und bedeutungsvoller. Wieso wolltest du all das nur hinter dir lassen? Was rede ich, meine Welt ist doch nicht bedeutungsvoller, sondern leerer. Was nützt der atemberaubende Blick aufs Meer schon ohne dich? Gar nichts.

But really I wanted to burn these childhood artifacts, because the lines -meant for escape- served as a reminder instead. I wanted to burn my memories.

History is a ghost story. My own childhood has passed into history, and the ghosts I find there are the ghosts of Heroes and dragons and Berserks and witches, and it has become fashionable not to believe in these things anymore. But I believe, for I was there.

A HERO... IS... FOREVER. Adieu, Snotlout. I could not have done this without you. I carry you with me, every step I take, every decision I make. You are part of my blood, and I would never have gotten this far without you. We shall meet again, in a better world than this one.

The past has a way of catching up with you.

Hiccup the Second was gone forever, separated from the Dragon by an ocean of sky and time, and he could not come back to visit. But still, somehow, a tiny part of him was here, in the raggedy, awkward shape of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. And the Dragon Furious loved him.

In my beginning is my end....there were Dragons when I was a boy.

Because a place can do many things against you, and if it's your home or if it was your home at one time, you still love it. That's how it works.

We would be thousands of miles apart from now on and we would go on with our lives and get older and change and grow, but we would never have to look for each other. Inside each of us, I was pretty sure, was a place for the other. Nothing that had happened and nothing that would ever happen would make that less true.

People recognized you or they didn't, and it was unrelated to knowing you. Knowing you could just be your name or the street you lived on, your father's job. Recognizing you was understanding you had thoughts in your head, finding the same things funny or excruciating, remembering what you'd said months or even years after you'd said

Approaching each other, him from the gym, me from the library- this was when I walked down the aisle and he was waiting, this was when we made love, it was every anniversary, every reunion in an airport or train station, every reconciliation after a quarrel. This was the whole of our lives together.

And really, what has stayed with me from that vacation as much as my own suspicious, petty agonizing is my father on the esplanade just after our arrival. The wind blew his hair, and he was fidgety with delight, straining to explain to my mother and me exactly why the Mighty Mac was so impressive. I wondered at the time—I wonder still—if that was the happiest my father had ever been.

Oh, how different my life would have been had I not grown up in the same house with my grandmother, how much narrower and blander!

Wordsworth phrase I'd learned in English class as a high school junior: emotion recollected in tranquillity.

Everybody of my generation has the same memory. We were twelve or thirteen or we were twenty-one, for that matter, and we were going to be veterinarians or we were, like Ringo, going to own a hairdresser's parlor. We walked into the record store and saw the cover of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. We thought together, 'Life can be other than it has been.

She went on and on, until Jeff had a sense of family spreading out around them endlessly, and only an hour later, when she was lost in reminiscences, did he understand that the names she mentioned, the people she spoke of, were most of them long ago dead. The family spread not out and around, but back, back into time.

They turned, wiping back sweat-dampened hair. Their grandmother had a cantaloupe cut up into thick slices. She had arranged the slices on a metal cookie sheet.