Quotes About Memories

And I have tried to forget him, I have tried to convince myself that it was just one of those things, but it's difficult to do that when my body is standing here, eight feet deep in the earth of northern France, while my heart remains by a stream in a clearing in England where I left it weeks ago.

I think perhaps the adults we become are formed in childhood and there's no way around it.

How can something still feel so painful after twenty-eight years, I asked myself. Is there no recovery from the traumas of our youth?

Cyril, you remember Peter and Ruth, don't you?' she said. 'Of course' I replied. 'Happy Christmas. Nice to see you both again.' 'Happy Christmas to you,' said Peter, an enormous man bursting out of an extra-large shirt. 'And may the blessings of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior be with you on this momentous day.' 'Fair enough,' I said 'Hello, Ruth.

You reach a point where you realize that your life must go on regardless. You choose to live or you choose to die. But then there are moments, things that you see, something funny on the street or a good joke that you hear, a television program that you want to share, and it makes you miss the person who's gone terribly and then it's not grief at all, it's more a sort of bitterness at the world for taking them away from you.

Why couldn't Ireland have been like this when I was a boy?

It's not easy losing someone," she said. "It never goes away, does it?" "The Phantom Pain, they call it," I said. "Like amputees get when they can still feel their missing limbs.

said. 'A home is not a building or a street or a city or something so artificial as bricks and mortar. A home is where one's family is, isn't that

I know what I really want for Christmas. I want my childhood back. Nobody is going to give me that.… I know it doesn't make sense, but since when is Christmas about sense, anyway? It is about a child of long ago and far away, and it is about the child of now. In you and me. Waiting behind the door of our hearts for something wonderful to happen.

This transformation involves three dynamics: 1. The identification with shame-based models and the carrying of their unexpressed shame. 2. The trauma of abandonment and the shame binding all one's feelings, needs and drives. 3. The interconnection and magnification of visual memories or scenes, and the retaining of shaming auditory and kinesthetic imprints.

Songs are perhaps the most powerful auditory anchors. I'll bet you've experienced riding in your car listening to the radio and suddenly you remembered a person or scene from long ago. Our whole lives are an accumulation of such anchored imprints—pleasant as well as painful.

Los individuos no siempre recordarán lo que dijiste, no siempre recordarán lo que hiciste; no obstante, siempre recordarán como los hiciste sentir».

People will not always remember what you said. They will not always remember what you did. But, they will always remember how you made them feel.

create memories.

The clouds reminded me of hootch, the rain reminded me of hootch, the stars reminded me of hootch. I used to dream about girls before I got on the hootch but after that I just used to dream about hootch. I mean dreams are supposed to come from some very deep part of your mind like sex but with me it was hootch.

It is unlikely that Percy would have written my mother after her return from Europe, and, had she written, the letter would have been destroyed, since that family had a crusading detestation of souvenirs. Letters, photographs, diplomas—anything that authenticated the past was always thrown into the fire.

When I agreed to call him about lunch he gave me his telephone number at the shipyard, his extension there, the telephone number of his apartment, the telephone number of a cottage he had in Connecticut, and the telephone number of the club where he lunched and played cards. I wrote all these numbers on a piece of paper and when we said goodbye I dropped the paper into a wastebasket.

since these are hours and days out of one's life, can there be any other course but to look back into them, even though at times they seem like waste?

These stories date from my Honorable Discharge from the Army at the end of World War II. Their order is, to the best of my memory, chronological and the most embarrassingly immature pieces have been dropped. These stories seem at times to be stories of a long-lost world when the city of New York was still filled with a river light, when you heard the Benny Goodman quartets from a radio in the corner stationery store, and when almost everybody wore a hat.

Her eyes filled with tears when she thought of kissing Mamma and giving her the silver-framed photograph of Dana Andrews that she had bought at Woolworth's for her present.

Goodbye, Daddy, I said, and I went down the stairs and got my train, and that was the last time I saw my father.

There are some things in life that you can never get back... Memories that eventually fade away... People that leave you behind with a priceless lesson.... But through all this.. there's a glimpse of Hope for something Real.. Something that will never leave or fade away... Something to always... Hold on to...

Love is hard to find, hard to keep, and hard to forget.

Sometimes you just need to accept that some people can only be in your heart not your life.