Quotes About Memories

Death is hacking away at my address book and party lists.

A thousand goodbyes come after death - the first six months of bereavement.

I answer the heroic question, 'Death, where is thy sting?' with 'It is in my heart and mind and memories.

The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.

With every death, a world is disappearing.

Look out, Death: I am coming.-Art thou not glad? what talks we'll have.-What memories of old battles.-Come, bring the bowl, Death; I am thirsty.

Death and loss, they plague you. So do memories. Like the Mississippi's incessant slap against the levees, they creep up with deceptive sweetness before grabbing your heart and pulling it under.

That's all that death is ... Just a going away into another country ... Only the separation is harder to bear because there can be no letters to bridge the silence.

It was all remarkable. Good-bye, remarkable. Egypt and Greece good-bye, and good-bye, Rome!

Fear presides over these memories, a perpetual fear. Of course no childhood is without its terrors, yet I wonder if I would have been a less frightened boy if Lindbergh hadn't been president or if I hadn't been the offspring of Jews.

Her ubiquity and his constipation, my mother flying in through the bedroom window, my father reading the evening paper with a suppository up his ass . . . these, Doctor, are the earliest impressions I have of my parents, of their attributes and secrets.

A phone at a cemetery would be ringing off the hook. If you could get them on the phone . .

Now, thanks to you, my beloved little darling, being dead is as awful as being alive was.

The Swede had loved that story all his life. Who wrote it? Nobody, as far as he could remember. They'd just studied it in grade school. Johnny Appleseed, out there everywhere planting apple trees. That bag of seeds. I loved that bag.

At the end of her story she said simply, "As I look back, this is what matters. I have loved and been loved, and all the rest is just background music.

I am sorry for you. And I am sorry for me. When you are sent back to me, perhaps a month from now, perhaps a year, I will try to remember this day, and you looking like a child, a little lost among all these clothes. I will try to remember that you were innocent of any plotting; that today at least, you were more a girl than a Boleyn.

Richard looks into my eyes and once again I know us for the children that we were, who had to make our own destiny in a world we could not understand.

One never gets the same summer twice.

The castle will seem very quiet and strange without you here. The stone stairs and the chapel will miss your footstep, the gateway will will miss your laughter, and the wall will miss your shadow.

You too might find that your women friends are your truest friends, your sisters are the keepers of your memories and hopes for the future.

never see them again. Surely, a couple so young, so

I think that all of them must have lost their minds and have forgotten everything we were to each other. I said that they were no sisters to me, that I would forget them. But they have gone further than this: they have become my enemies.

What will happen when I am old and I can dance no more?

your sisters are the keepers of your memories and hopes for the future.