Quotes About Memories

One of my dearest friends took the photograph of me she kept in a frame, ripped it in half, and mailed it to me.

By the time I rose and started walking again, I didn't begrudge my mother a thing. The truth was, in spite of all that, she'd been a spectacular mom. I knew it as I was growing up. I knew it in the days that she was dying. I knew it now. And I knew that was something. That it was a lot.

I grew up and left home for college in the Twin Cities at a school called St. Thomas,

She would always be my mother, I told her, but I had to go. She wasn't there for me in that flowerbed anymore anyway, I explained. I'd put her somewhere else. The only place I could reach her. In me.

It will never be okay," a friend who lost her mom in her teens said to me a couple years ago. "It will never be okay that our mothers are dead.

He was once so struck by something I said to him in the course of an argument that he immediately wrote it on a scrap of paper and stuck it to our refrigerator, where it stayed for nearly a decade. The quote? I'm going to be mad at you for the rest of my life.

I wasn't with my mom when she died. No one was. She died alone in a hospital room, and for so many years it felt like three-quarters of my insides were frozen solid because of that.

Make New FrNdS But Keep D oLd , One iS silVer The Other is Gold.

Sometimes you know that no one can replace the person you love, and your heart will never be the same.

Optimists are nostalgic about the future.

There is no greater adventure than a magical journey through last night's drunk texts.

"Adam... My soul is so knit to yours that it is but a divided life I live without you. And this moment, now you are with me, and I feel that our hearts are filled with the same love..." What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life — to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?

This morning's tea makes yesterday distant.

[P]eople tend to remember their teachers for an entire lifetime, long after school is over.

To-day one half remembers With a sigh, In the yellow-mooned Septembers Long gone by, Many a solitary stroll With an overflowing soul...

The past is not a package one can lay away.

Whenever I think about the past, it just brings back so many memories.

And why should I rekindle these smoking embers? Why call up from their casements the ghosts of the dead?

The past cannot return. If I have wounded you, forgive. If no more your breast will yearn To warm this straying heart, oh live The dreams that warm it yet, The memories it would not forget. There is no strife, all that has gone. There is no pain, the will is set. There are hours for thought to feed on, But none to keep alive regret. However sadly a heart may yearn, The past cannot, cannot return.

The flowers of the past are dead — but their wilted beauty and potpourri aroma enrich the present with memories.

Walking down the third aisle of the stack beneath tin-shaded lightbulbs, smelling the familiar library scents of must and dust and cinnamony, aging paper, he thought: When I die, I guess I'll go with a library card in one hand and an OVERDUE stamp in the other. Well, maybe there's worse ways.

minutes bloom hours flower seconds vine through the hands of time — days hustle weeks speed decades scatter in confetti'd years

It has been said that in human life there are moments worth ages...

O! how many ghosts in a wound of war.