Quotes About Memories

Only just now she said to me, 'I am very happy, papa!' When they say 'father' stiffly, it sends a chill through me; but when they call me 'papa,' it brings all the old memories back. I feel most their father then; I even believe that they belong to me, and to no one else.

Has he forgotten her? That's the solitary thought which echoes through my soul like a remorse. Ah! dear mamma, have all women to struggle against memories as I do? None but innocent young men should be married to pure young girls. But that's a deceptive Utopia; better have one's rival in the past than in the future.

As she recalled the early raptures of their union, she understood the full extent of that lost happiness, and accepted the conclusion that so rich a harvest of love was in itself a whole life, which only sorrow could pay for.

This power of awakening a world of grave and sweet and tender memories by a familiar and sometimes lively ditty, is the privilege of those popular songs which are the superstitions of music, — if we may use the word "superstition" as signifying all that remains after the ruin of a people, all that survives their revolutions.

Mon Dieu! why could they not always be little girls?

He didn't know that you could ache for a place, even when it had hurt you so badly.

This coffee plunges into the stomach...the mind is aroused, and ideas pour forth like the battalions of the Grand Army on the field of battle.... Memories charge at full gallop...the light cavalry of comparisons deploys itself magnificently; the artillery of logic hurry in with their train of ammunition; flashes of wit pop up like sharp-shooters.

how much of my life my mother's death would affect. And with the certainty of thirty-three years, I would tell her: everything. It affects everything. When a mother dies, a daughter grieves. And then her life moves on. She does, thankfully, feel happiness again. But the missing her, the wanting her, the wishing she were still here—I will not lie to you, although you probably already know. That part never ends.

just as tunes once gay inevitably become plaintive when the generation that first sang them has turned to dust?

quiet days, smells and noises that are like old tunes, healing nights…

The Academy represented to the ladies of Lud all that they knew of romance. They remembered the jokes they had laughed at within its walls, the secrets they had exchanged walking up and down its pleached alleys, far more vividly than anything that had afterwards happened to them.

You should regard each meeting with a friend as a sitting he is unwillingly giving you for a portrait - a portrait that, probably, when you or he die, will still be unfinished. And, though this is an absorbing pursuit, nevertheless, the painters are apt to end pessimists.

A house with old furniture has no need of ghosts to be haunted.

[Skipping] takes me back to less complicated times, without leaving the present!

The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.

Old friends are the great blessings of one's later years. Half a word conveys one's meaning. They have a memory of the same events, have the same mode of thinking. I have young relations that may grow upon me, for my nature is affectionate, but can they grow -- To Be old friends?

I can forget injuries, but never benefits.

Inés! Y como diez años antes, los sollozos redoblaron, y como entonces me respondió bajo sus brazos: —No, no…¡Es demasiado tarde!…

Un largo rato nos miramos; una eternidad de silencio, durante el cual el recuerdo galopó hacia atrás entre derrumbamiento de nieve y caras agónicas. Pero la mirada de Enid era la vida misma, y presto entre el tercipelo húmedo de sus ojos y los míos no medió sino la dicha convulsiva de adorarnos. ¡Y nada más!

No period of my life has been one of such unmixed happiness as the four years which have been spent within college walls.

A happy childhood can't be cured. Mine'll hang around my neck like a rainbow, that's all, instead of a noose.

The dawn that Anna feared might never come would appear on schedule, just as it always had - and after it another, and another. And yesterday would become Last Month, then Last Winter, then Last Year, then Two and Five and Ten Years Ago, and one day the people would have to stop and think before they could say how long ago it was ...

And all of it seemed far away and long ago, along with the hard voices promising violence and the eyes bright with anger. page 126; THE TASTE OF ASHES by Howard Browne.

The world turns, and life changes, the good old days are fantasies-just screened memories.