Quotes About Memories

Only the very young and the very old may recount their dreams at breakfast, dwell upon self, interrupt with memories of beach picnics and favorite Liberty lawn dresses and the rainbow trout in a creek near Colorado Springs. The rest of us are expected, rightly, to affect absorption in other people's favorite dresses, other people's trout.

What gives those December days a year ago their sharper focus is their ending

We are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4AM of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed.

Like when someone dies, don't dwell on it

Hi ha moltes coses boniques al món; poques tant com els records. Hay muchas cosas bonitas en el mundo;pocas tan bonitas como los recuerdos

Old hurts run deep. They hide inside you, only to be awakened at a moment's notice.

they constituted the list of names her mother and

I've never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow.

All those moments, those memories. Everything that we are, compressed in just two or three kilos of paper — the weight of a human heart.

My mother marked the events of her life with recipes, dishes of her own invention or interpretations of old favorites. Food was her nostalgia, her celebration, its nurture and preparation the sole outlet for her creativity.

Once, we all lived in the sea," the grandmother had told her. "Its salt runs in our blood; our tears are memories of the ocean.

Just for a moment, she thought she smelled something, a strange, vivid scent of sugar and apples and blackberry jelly and smoke. It was a nostalgic scent, and for a second she could almost understand why Jay loved this place so much, with its little vineyards and its apple trees and its roaming goats on the marsh flats.

Leitor ignaro, se não guardas as cartas da juventude, não conhecerás um dia a filosofia das folhas velhas, não gostarás o prazer de ver-te, ao longe, na penumbra, com um chapéu de três bicos, botas de sete léguas e longas barbas assírias, a bailar ao som de uma gaita anacreôntica. Guarda as tuas cartas da juventude!

Three women were missing; one of them, another old friend. It appeared that death haunted her like a bloodhound. First, Ryan. Now, Becky. Although they weren't the same degree of friendship with her, they were threads woven into the fabric of her life. Without them, the material snagged, weakening her structure and threatening to unravel her life

You have to be careful who you meet. You can't unmeet them.

You know how hind-sight is 20/20? Love is when you look back and wouldn't change anything.

How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury?

You can't exist in this world without leaving a piece of yourself behind.

What was the point of being able to forgive, when deep down, you both had to admit you'd never forget?

Besides the obvious difference, there was not much distinction between losing a best friend and losing a lover: it was all about intimacy. One moment, you had someone to share your biggest triumphs and fatal flaws with; the next minute, you had to keep them bottled inside. One moment, you'd start to call her to tell her a snippet of news or to vent about your awful day before realizing you did not have that right anymore; the next, you could not remember the digits of her phone number.

I have only known her for two years. But if you took every memory, every moment, if you stretched them end to end-they'd reach forever.

I suddenly remember being very little and being embraced by my father. I would try to put my arms around my father's waist, hug him back. I could never reach the whole way around the equator of his body; he was that much larger than life. Then one day, I could do it. I held him, instead of him holding me, and all I wanted at that moment was to have it back the other way.

My chest feels full of glitter and helium, the way it used to when I was little and riding my father's shoulders at twilight, when I knew that if I held up my hands and spread my fingers like a net, I could catch the coming stars.

I would have given anything to keep her little. They outgrow us so much faster than we outgrow them. Brian Fitzgerald, talking about his children.