Quotes About Memories

As for me: I loyally remained right where I was, remembering the very first I had ever seen the boy and then just now, the very last time-and all the times in between. The deep aching grief I knew I would feel would come soon enough, but at that moment mostly what I felt was peace, secure in the knowledge that by living my life the way I had, everything had come down to this moment. I had fulfilled my purpose.

I will miss you, doodle dog," Ethan said to me.

You remind me in so many ways of my dog Molly, her gentleness, but also Max, with his self-assurance. Will you tell my angel dogs I'm coming to be with them soon? And will you be with me in my final moments? I don't wan to be afraid- and if you're there, I know I'll be brave. You're my forever friend, Toby.

My last thoughts,as I drifted off, were as always, of the boy

I was seized by a fury I did not understand, an instinctive rage coming from deep inside. My mind filled with what seemed like memories of things that had never happened, of vicious battles with these creatures. They were my enemy and I was driven to kill them, to tear into them with my teeth and close my jaws on their necks.

Bailey, Bailey, Bailey, I'm going to miss you, doodle dog," Ethan whispered in my ear. His breath was warm and delightful. I closed my eyes at the pleasure of it, the sheer pleasure of love from the boy, love by the boy.

At Dirty Dick's and Sloppy Joe'sWe drank our liquor straight,Some went upstairs with Margery,And some, alas, with Kate.

There has been only one Christmas - the rest are anniversaries.

Now all my teachers are dead except silence.

What makes old age hard to bear is not the failing of one's faculties, mental and physical, but the burden of one's memories.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep

The last stroke of midnight dies. All day in the one chair From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged In rambling talk with an image of air: Vague memories, nothing but memories.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep — W.B. Yeats, from "When You are Old," The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats . (Scribner; 2nd Revised edition September 9, 1996) Originally published 1889.

I can remember meeting of a Sunday night Charles Whibley, Kenneth Grahame, author of The Golden Age, Barry Pain, now a well-known novelist, R. A. M. Stevenson, art critic and a famous talker, George Wyndham, later on a cabinet minister and Irish chief secretary, and now or later Oscar Wilde, who was some ten years older than the rest of us.

The friends who met here and embraced are gone, Each to his own mistake;

How much must be forgotten out of love, How much must be forgiven, even love.

Trees" I am looking at trees they may be one of the things I will miss most from the earth though many of the ones I have seen already I cannot remember and though I seldom embrace the ones I see and have never been able to speak with one I listen to them tenderly their names have never touched them they have stood round my sleep and when it was forbidden to climb them they have carried me in their branches

Tell me what you see vanishing and I will tell you who you are

These days I seem to think about the things I forgot to do for you and all the times I had a chance to.

A regret I have was never being able to interview George Harrison. I just loved him but I never had a chance to interview him.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know.

The way you spend Christmas is far more important than how much.

Memories, important yesterdays, were once todays. Treasure and notice today.

There are some wonderful aspects to Christmas. It's magical. And each year, from at least November, well, September, well, if I'm honest, May, I look forward to it hugely.