Quotes About Memories

I see you in the grass, Running through the snow, But where you have gone, I cannot go.

Happy voices, smiling faces, golden memories of a summer afternoon, of a world that could still laugh and talk of war as something far away.

It was first love and it was painful. But it also had no future whatsoever.

I like to jot down thoughts and ideas as I tread life's garden, for then sometimes when I am weary I can turn a leaf and find what my mood was on a certain day and that changes a train of thought and brings back sunshine.

I hear my mother's voice echo you're all the sunlight that's ever been in my life.

That's for me. I am a great lover of 'I was there' books.

I do love secondhand books that open to the page some previous owner read oftenest.

People oughtn't to breeze into your life and out again in ten seconds, without leaving a name behind

Mis amigos son muy peculiares en cuestión de libros. Leen todos los best sellers que caen en sus manos, devorándolos lo más rápidamente posible…, y saltándose montones de párrafos según creo. Pero luego JAMAS releen nada, con lo que al cabo de un año no recuerdan ni una palabra de lo que leyeron.

After supper we climbed into his car. He didn't ask what I wanted to see, he just drove me to the corner where the Globe Theatre stood. Nothing is there now, the lot is empty. I made him stop the car and I got out and stood on that empty lot and I thought the top of my head would come off.

Nostalgia settled on my shoulders like the arm of a long-lost friend, urging me to look back and listen; it had been years since I heard such morning sounds, such silence.

I love you, but I love the past even more. I long for it, I long for it, I am consumed with longing for it. The past! I shall cry, I shall suffer because the past will never come back again.

You will tell me the quiet story of your day's work, without any object except to give me your thoughts and your life. You will speak of your childhood memories. I shall not understand them very well because You will be able to give me, perforce, only insufficient details, but I shall love your sweet strange language.

We photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing, and when they have vanished, there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again.

Photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again.

We photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing, and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again. We cannot develop and print a memory.

My soft voice and demeanor were useless. In a pint jar, I carried a cremated friend, like flesh scraped from a cistern.

Paris'te ayn? evi payla?t???m Betty Rayn adl? k?z olmasayd? Yunanistan'a belki de hiç gitmeyecektim.

Distance never seperates two hearts that really care, for our memories span the miles and in seconds we are there. But whenever I start feeling sad cuz I miss you I remind myself how lucky I am to have someone so special to miss.

E in qualsiasi città ci fermiamo sono le case cui è troppo tardi per tornare i giardini in cui è troppo tardi per trascorrere una notte di luna e le donne che è troppo tardi per amare a tormentarci con la loro impalpabile presenza.

Vad är det som formar ett barn? De lyckliga eller de olyckliga stunderna. Om ett barn bara kommer ihåg de lyckliga stunderna är det möjligt att barnet kommer ihåg dem för att de var så få och då kan man väl säga att barndomen inte var lycklig. Och tvärtom, förstås.

Our yesterdays are like a lonely and a ruined land wherein a breeze of recollection sighs--a fading land to which is no return.

I only ask to drink experience deep; And, in the sad, sweet goblet of my years, To find love poured with all its smiles and tears, And quaffing this, I too shall sweetly sleep.

Home is the wallpaper above the bed, the family dinner table, the church bells in the morning, the bruised shins of the playground, the small fears that come with dusk, the streets and squares and monuments and shops that constitute one's first universe.