Quotes About Memories

I want you to remember what was good in me, not what was most awful. The people you love should be allowed to keep their worst to themselves.

Maybe, he thinks, as he's riding on through the snow, maybe this is why she's leaving. Maybe she fell in love with me when we were kids. And now: and now: and now: we're not kids anymore.

Those days were like a crown of gold over her head. Her hair was a knotted nest of some tiny white and yellow flowers with little bluebells wrapped inside her curls. Maybe she'd bring him a sandwich or a bottle of Coca-Cola, all cold and full of beads of ice along the side. Wasn't it all so pretty? Wasn't it all so nice?

Ho'oponopono sees each problem not as an ordeal, but as an opportunity. Problems are just replayed memories of the past showing up to give us one more chance to see with the eyes of love and to act from inspiration.

Los problemas son simplemente recuerdos del pasado que se repiten para darnos una oportunidad más de ver con los ojos del amor y actuar con inspiración».

The most beautiful thing of all, though, is to be able to shake hands again with an old friend, as in days gone by; it is a great comfort to find again, what we have treasured.

The happiest of all things is when an old friend comes and greets us as in former times; the heart is comforted with the assurance that someday everything that we have loved will be given back to us.—

To see the sun shining on its bright grass, fresh, when we first visited it, with the autumnal dews, and hear the whispering of the wind among the leaves of the trees which have overgrown the tomb of Cestius, and the soil which is stirring in the sun-warm earth, and to mark the tombs, mostly of women and young people who were buried there, one might, if one were to die, desire the sleep they seem to sleep.

Never be afraid to grow old with your friends; for it's when you grow old together that you become the most trusted and sweetest friends of all.

Time does not diminish friendships; it just beautifies it.

Every friendship has its own victories

Every friendship has its own blessings.

Create wonderful memories of yourself with your friends.

Every friendship has its own birthday.

Friendship with children creates best friends in life.

How many people came and stayed a certain time, Uttered light or dark speech that became part of you Like light behind windblown fog and sand Filtered and influenced by it, until no part Remains that is surely you.

These things that were between us, these and a myriad others, a myriad myriad, these remain of her, but what will become of them when I am gone, I who am their repository and sole preserver?

Happiness was different in childhood. It was so much more than a matter simply of accumulation, of taking things - new experiences, new emotions - and applying them like so many polished tiles to what would someday be the marvellously finished pavilion of the self.

Happy sadness, sad happiness, the story of my life and loves

We swam in sunshine and in rain; we swam in the morning, when the sea was sluggish as soup, we swam at night, the water flowing over our arms like undulations of black satin; one afternoon we stayed in the water during a thunderstorm, and a fork of lightning struck the surface of the sea so closer to us we heard the crackle of it and smelt the burnt air.

Remember what April was like when we were young, that sense of liquid rushing and the wind taking blue scoops out of the air and the birds beside themselves in the budding trees?

It has always seemed to me a disgrace that the embarrassments of early life should continue to smart throughout adulthood with undiminished intensity. Is it not enough that our youthful blunders made us cringe at the time, when we were at our tenderest, but must stay with us beyond cure, burn marks ready to flare up painfully at the merest touch? No: an indiscretion from earliest adolescence will still bring a blush to the cheek of the nonagenarian on his deathbed.

Innocence is like youth,' he declared sadly, 'which is given to us only to expend and takes its very meaning from its loss.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.