Quotes About Memories

Because it is senior year I have begun to see things as potential absences. The things I love will become the things I'll miss.

People say that time slips through our fingers like sand. What they don't acknowledge is that some of the sand sticks to the skin. These are memories that will remain, memories of the time when there was still time left.

We gather the things we learned, and they don't nearly add up to fill the space of a life. You will miss the taste of Froot Loops. You will miss the sound of traffic. You will miss your back against his. You will miss him stealing the sheets. Do not ignore these things.

The thing about champagne,you say, unfoiling the cork, unwinding the wire restraint, is that is the ultimate associative object. Every time you open a bottle of champagne, it's a celebration, so there's no better way of starting a celebration than opening a bottle of champagne. Every time you sip it, you're sipping from all those other celebrations. The joy accumulates over time.

How amazing it is that friendships can become so full that you can't imagine what your life was like before them.

I will never have a photograph of her to carry around in my pocket. I will never have a letter in her handwriting, or a scrap-book of everything we've done. I will never share an apartment with her in the city. I will never know if we are listening to the same song at the same time. We will not grow old together. I will not be the person she calls when she's in trouble. She will not be the person I call when I have stories to tell. I will never be able to keep anything she's given to me.

Our moments are music, and sometimes – just sometimes – we can catch them and put them into some lasting form. If we didn't have music, I don't think we could ever be truly happy, and if we didn't have special moments, we would never find music.

Every you, every me. Fractals. Fractures.

When I leave my own house, there's always a part of me that stays behind, waiting for me to get back. That's what makes it my home - that feeling that a part of me is always waiting for me there.

Knowledge is the only thing I take with me when I go.

How do you commemorate a year? A paper anniversary, but we are the words written down, not the paper.

We saw our friends die. But we also see our friends live. So many of them live, and we often toast their long and full lives. They carry us on.

Each of us has our own unit of measurement, our own relativity. Spaces between loves. Spaces between destinations. Spaces between deaths.

With some break-ups, all you can think about afterwards is how badly it ended and how much the other person hurt you. With others, you become sentimental for the good times and lose track of what went wrong.

All couples get nostalgic about the start of their story.

apparel, n.: There are times I don't mind doing the laundry, because folding your clothes reminds me of the shape of you.

I try to hear her voice, try to separate that single pitch from the shouts and applause. But she's as lost to me as she was the night I cried and she didn't turn back to see if I was okay. Three weeks, two days, and twenty-three hours ago. And she's already with someone else.

I leave her in the bed. I put on my clothes, pick up my keys, and close the door behind me. I turn back. I keep turning back to see her. Even when there are walls between us. I keep turning back. I keep turning in her direction.

I was treating the past as if it could be mined for clues, for reasons. But the past resists that. It holds too much evidence of too many things.

The smell of the nail polish made me think of Amber and the rest of my friends. I missed them, but in theory. It wasn't them I missed, but friendship. QUITE YET.

One last song. One last turn. One last street. No matter how hard you try to keep hold of a day, it's going to leave you -Rhiannon

People say that time slips through our fingers like sand. What they don't acknowledge is that some of the sand sticks to the skin. These are the memories that will remain, memories of the time when there was still time left.

You will miss the taste of Froot Loops. You will miss the sound of traffic. You will miss your back against his. You will even miss him stealing the sheets. Do not ignore these things.

You can tell a lot about a person based on the pages he or she journals on