Quotes About Memories

The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts.

Las ciudades son un conjunto de muchas cosas: memorias, deseos, signos de un lenguaje; son lugares de trueque, como explican todos los libros de historia de la economía, pero estos trueques no lo son sólo de mercancías, son también trueques de palabras, de deseos, de recuerdos.

Who is each one of us, if not a combinatoria of experiences, information, books we have read. . . . Each life is an encyclopedia, a library.

Llega un momento de la vida en que de la gente que uno ha conocido son más los muertos que los vivos. Y la gente se niega a aceptar otras fisionomías, otras expresiones: En todas las caras nuevas que encuentra, imprime los viejos calcos, para cada una encuentra una cara que se le adapta mejor.

If I could, I'd dave whiffs of beautiful nights in a little pouch on my chest, the way the indians keep the scents of the prairie.

THAT BEGAN a spell of time when the high point of my days was the sugar on my cereal.

In a time like that, the past meets you wherever you turn. The days do not use their own hours and minutes, they find ones you have lived through with the person you are missing.

People come and go in our lives; that's as old a story as there is. But some of them the heart cries out to keep forever; and that is a fresh saga everytime.

PEOPLE COME AND GO in our lives; that's as old a story as there is. But some of them the heart cries out to keep forever, and that is a fresh saga every time.

It's strange, the things you miss. Me, I miss the way she used to wear her socks to bed and then pull them off with her toes. I would find them hidden in the sheets when I made the bed in the morning, crumpled into little black balls, covered in dog hair. It used to drive me nuts, but not anymore, in retrospect. Now it seems kind of adorable.

High schools remind me of high school, I can't help it. I graduated twenty years ago, but all it takes is the sound of the first period buzzer going off or the smell of floor wax and it is 1985 all over again, when I am skinny and self-conscious.

Forgetfulness heals everything and song is the most beautiful manner of forgetting, for in song man feels only what he loves.

Toen fotograferen nog iets bijzonders was en een afdruk relatief duur lachte iedereen die op de foto ging. Alsof de foto zo meer waard werd.

Het schenden van grenzen heeft iets opwindends. Hij herinnerde zich de blik van jonge Duitse soldaten op journaalfilms.

Love entered in my heart one day A sad, unwelcome guest. But when it begged that it might stay I let it stay and rest It broke my nights with sorrowing It filled my heart with fears And, when my soul was prone to sing, It filled my eyes with tears. But...now that it has gone its way, I miss the dear ole pain. And, sometimes, in the night I pray That Love might come again.

I was trying to feel some kind of good-bye. I mean I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don't care if it's a sad good-bye or a bad good-bye, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't you feel even worse.

Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.

Mindfulness meditation teaches you to recognize memories and damaging thoughts as they arise. It reminds you that they are memories. They are like propaganda, they are not real. They are not you.

G'Kar: I believe that when we leave a place, part of it goes with us and part of us remains. Go anywhere in the station when it is quiet, and just listen. After a while, you will hear the echoes of all our conversations, every thought and word we've exchanged. Long after we are gone, our voices will linger in these walls for as long as this place remains. But I will admit that the part of me that is going will very much miss the part of you that is staying.

An architect never repudiates anything she's loved.

Her gaze dims as her nostalgia for Palermo overcomes her. Those smells of seaweed dried by the sun, of capers, of ripe figs, she will never find them anywhere else; those burnt and scented shores, those waves slowly breaking, jasmine petals flaking in the sun.

As Father Christmas made his way around the hall, handing out presents and shaking hands, Rachel turned to Kirsty and gave her a hug. "Thank you for inviting me to spend Christmas with you," she said. "I love the adventures we have together!" "Me too," said Kirsty, hugging her in return. "And I'm so lucky to have such an amazing best friend. Today has been the best Christmas Eve ever!

What's your doggie name, honey?" "Mom…" "Oh, c'mon, kiddo—we'll look back on this someday and laugh together. Promise. Now cough it up. We'll laugh for you until you're ready to see the funny." He couldn't help but smile. It was pretty funny if you looked at it from the other side. "Fluffy.

The hardest thing is at the end you have to say bye to all these people who you have worked with for so many months. It was really sad not to see them anymore. But you have the parties that you go to and you get to see them, like the premieres and the screenings.