Quotes About Memories

We are all prisoners of our past. It shapes and defines us and can no more be forgotten than changed.

I'm only human, and I have no doubt Spock will outlive me by many years. I can only hope that, once in a while, when people look at Spock's visage, they might sometimes think of me.

Boxes of fireworks - she remembered them filling her childhood, at every occasion she could think of, gods, where had the Popisho fireworks gone? Mad swirls of silver-blue lightning and crimson stars. A whole sky of melting yellow moons that trickled into their hair and faces and turned into caramel.

No has más corona de espinas que los recuerdos que se clavan en la carne y hacen aullar como aullaban en el Gólgota los dos ladrones.

There comes a time when you have to drop your burdens in order to fight for yourself and your dreams. Many of us carry baggage from the past that hinders our ability to fight for the things we want in life, our goals, our dreams. If you learn in this book to let go of those burdensome emotions and memories, then one of my chief objectives will be realized; you will be able to pursue and live your dreams.

We may be through with our past, but the past isn't through with us.

To be in your children's memories tomorrow, you have to be in their lives today. Anonymous

Khadija loved him for himself, not for who he would become, and he would never forget her in those later years, turning pale with grief at the sound of any voice that reminded

We didn't write it at the time. We took notes, as journalists did in those days, by committing quotes to memory, then making our excuses and heading for the bathroom, where we'd scribble into our notebooks before the booze set in.

Each star had cost an effort. For each there had been planning, watching and anticipation. Each one recalled to me a place, a time, a season. Each one now has a personality. The stars, in short, had become my stars.

I think home is the most beautiful word in the world—no matter what language one speaks.

He could get no rest as long as the memories were tangled with the present

Sleep is harder to reach and thinner, and sleeping is no longer the Drop into the black pit all oblivion until the alarm clock, no, sleep is thin and fitful and full of memories and reminders and the dark is never dark enough.

Mas a vida tinha lá seus mistérios e suas surpresas: nenhum de nós naquela casa voltaria a ser o mesmo de antes, nem os risos nunca mais soariam tão leves e límpidos, nunca mais aquelas vozes todas reunidas na mesma sala, nunca mais.

Sometimes my family thinks I've made my childhood a bit more Dickensian than it was, and it probably wasn't all that bad. But I was uncomfortable as a kid.

It turns out you can go home again, if you have to.

The memories were safe, sealed forever in amber.

There must still be some last invisible unbroken strand connecting them, something deeper than mourning. The wound had healed but the scar wouldn't fade, not quite.

He showed her a wonderful garden, where all the thoughts and feelings that had ever been thought and felt existed in the form of plants, blooming and green as they passed through people's minds and lived in their hearts, and then drying up and turning brown and crisp as they passed out of mind, sometimes to bloom again in another season, sometimes gone forever.

It's time to live with what we have and mourn what we lost.

It was still possible that five years from now, when they were more or less over their post-traumatic stress disorder, they'd all get a big kick out of getting together and talking about it.

When he counted his change, he found only coins from the year he was born.

His mind was an icy pond constantly in danger of thawing. He trod on it only lightly-its surface was perilously slick and who knew how thin. To break through would mean immersion in what was below: cold, dark anaerobic water and angry, toothy fish. The fish were memories. He wanted to put them away somewhere and forget where he'd put them, but he couldn't.

He showed her a wonderful garden, where all the thoughts and feelings that had ever been thought and felt existed in the form of plants, blooming and green as they passed through people's minds and lived in their hearts, and then drying up and turning brown and crisp as they passed out of mind, sometimes to bloom again in another season, sometimes gone forever. It