Quotes About Memories

And in the end, we are all just stories

Who looks back with pride at the end of the year (or at the end of their lives) on how much TV they watched, or how many Facebook posts they commented on? Most likely, every moment in your life you remember with fondness and pride took effort…and effort often means stress.

It's been a long time, you see. There's been no one for five years. Not since Gavin. I've spent five years murdering what I felt for him, starving my need for him, purging my memory. But somehow it still feels...too soon. They say time heals, but--' 'They lied,' he said simply.

I had to ask myself, why I was sensing a twinge of something that felt suspiciously like nostalgia. But starlight can do that to a person.

Clothes as text, clothes as narration, clothes as a story. Clothes as the story of our lives. And if you were to gather all the clothes you have ever owned in all your life, each baby shoe and winter coat and wedding dress, you would have your autobiography.

Already what I remember most is the happiness of seeing you. Having tea. Falling asleep. Waking up with you there awake in the kitchen. It was like being alive twice. I'll try to tell you better when I am stronger.

Nostalgia is a way of remembering people and places and things, and wishing things hadn't changed. It has a sweetness to it. Sadness is just--well--being sad.

I was the kind of girl who liked to go down by the ocean and hold hands. I still am.

when I checked the other day, I found it - my strawberry patch - overgrown and hidden under weeds, but still there...like secrets, like memories. You can make yourself believe that they have been erased. But they are there, if you look closely. If you have a wish to uncover them.

Now it is as if I remember my grief rather than experience it. I remember the pain I suffered as the memories washed over me where I sat on the deck that day. Now I have only the memories of my own feelings, not the feelings themselves. That day the feelings were still alive, the pain real. Now I look back and I can see every detail but I am not there, inside it. My own pain is now forever calcified. I carry it with me, but it is no longer alive. (10)

Sometimes we are given exactly what we need. The precise people that you need the most come stumbling into your life. Sometimes you don't notice, and this is very sad. Sometimes you lose them again. This is sad too, but not as sad. Because what you have once had together you have forever.

I had accepted that all the dark memories were mine. But I had never realized that the beautiful ones were mine too. I had a right to them. And the right to embrace them, regardless of what happened before and after. I had a right to my happiness, as well as my grief.

Det er bare det vi har mistet, som fremstår som evig uforanderlig.

I always thought it was a shame . . . that we didn't keep those things safe somehow.

But [Patrick's] character is partly based on a boy named Mark who lived across the street from me when I was growing up ... I liked hanging out with him and was sad when he moved away after only a year in the neighborhood. I guess writing about Patrick is a way for me to spend more time with Mark.

Ages ago my gran knitted a sweater for my dad. He wore it and wore it and wore it right out. Then my other gran, who lives with us, unraveled it

She was a child robbed of her beloved sea and shore

Growing up I always shopped at Victoria's Secret with my mom and saw Angels like Gisele and Karolina Kurkova in the windows.

Life is a series of sudden disappearances, leave-takings without the proper goodbyes.

Childhood is really age-less. It's just a matter of how much time you can invest in it.

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

Memories consume Like opening the wound I'm picking me apart again You all assume I'm safe here in my room Unless I try to start again.

Like memories in cold decay, Transmissions echoing away, Far from the world of you and I Where oceans bleed into the sky..

In the dark attics of our minds, all times mingle.