Quotes About Memories

What a gruesome mess you must have been at three,' said the Biscuit meditatively. 'You were bad enough at fourteen. At three you must have made strong men shudder.

Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.

Quiero que sepas una cosa. Si de pronto me olvidas no me busques, que ya te habré olvidado.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines...Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor y es tan largo el olvido. Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos, mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa, y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

What weighs more heavily on the belt, sadness or memories? Where is the child I was, still inside me or gone? Why did we spend so much time growing up only to separate? Was it where they lost me that I finally found myself?

Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you.

It was beautiful to live when you lived!

Remembering her, it is as if my heart were buried in the rain. Again I think it's she, but why would she be coming now? Oh, what sad days! […] Your eyes : two sleepy cups darkened by purple berries from the forest undergrowth. What a leaf, a leaf from a white vine, fragrant and heavy, I could have brought you from the forest. Every- thing flees from this solitude enforced by rain and contemplation.

Começarei por dizer, sobre os dias e anos de minha infância, que meu único personagem inesquecível foi a chuva.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.' The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Dónde está el niño que yo fui, Sigue adentro de mí o se fue? Sabe que no lo quise nunca Y que tampoco me quería? Por qué anduvimos tanto tiempo Creciendo para separarnos? Por qué no morimos los dos Cuándo mi infancia se murió? Y si el alma se me cayó Por qué me sigue el esqueleto?

Entonces,dónde estabas? Entre qué gentes? Diciendo qué palabras? Por qué se me vendrá todo el amor de golpe Cuando me siento triste,y te siento tan lejana?

He was my friend in everyday life and now I have lost his affection, which was part of my daily bread. No one will be able to give me what he has taken with him, because his active brotherly spirit was one of my life's treasured luxuries.

I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short; forgetting is so long.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died, and we don't now and never did lie to each other. So now he's gone and I buried him, and that's all there is to it.

Se de súbito me esqueceres, não me procures, pois já te terei esquecido.

from Poems by Pablo Neruda Tonight I can write the saddest lines Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.

Do all memories of the poor huddle together in the villages? And do the rich keep their dreams in a box carved from minerals?

Pamtim kakva si bila one posljednje jeseni..

Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa, y éstos los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

We went back out into the night, the three of us together, skating hand in hand.

She'd spent years trying to explain herself to me (and I to her), but in the end, it had all been for nothing. I could recite her memories, but I could not feel them. She was another country, and I would never travel there.

Most people's lives go unrecorded, or worse unlived.