Quotes About Memories

Right when you find yourself not thinking about her at all, there she'll be, right at the end of the story to fuck with your head one last time." She

Back in the car, I sit for a long time, breathing. I'll remember this, what just happened, for a very long time. I'll be on my own deathbed someday, replaying this in my head, wishing it had gone differently. We hold on to the shitty things the tightest, for some reason. And this is the shittiest thing ever. "Are

Dad jokes. You hate them when you hear them every day, but trust me, you sure do miss 'em when he's gone.

And yet, even as she spoke, she knew that she did not wish to come back. not to stay, not to live. She loved the little yellow cottage more than she loved any place on earth. but she was through with it except in her memories.

They soon stopped being ten years old. But whatever age they were seemed to be exactly the right age for having fun.

My parents are there, but they are hazy figures, a tall stern-looking man in khaki shorts with green eyes, and my mother, petite and graceful, wearing a longyi, the Burmese version of the sarong, with a close-fitting jacket or blouse called an eingyi. And there are flowers in her hair, always jasmine.

The years went by too quickly, that was the trouble. By the time you figured out that the times you were living were the best, they were over and nothing more remained than a few blurry snapshots and a handful of memories.

It's funny how, having nice thoughts in your head, it is so pleasant to pull them all out and think them all over again.

Los días vividos, pletóricos o vacíos, tranquilos o agitados, son todos por igual días pasados, y la ceniza del pasado pesa lo mismo en todas las manos.

How is it possible? Already another year gone by? How could it go so quickly!' Perhaps it is because one takes up too many moments remembering, reliving times past.

Days lived, whether full or empty, whether busy or serene, are but days gone by, and the ashes of the past weigh the same in every hand. Had

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.

When we lose someone we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.

Infantile prehistory does not remain inert in the adult. Rather, infantile prehistory is perpetually re-created by the adult's current attitudes.

There are certain pieces of music that are always attached to certain books.

I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more.

I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more...

One day you're breaking hearts, and then you blink and it's decades gone and your heart attacks you.

And though age and infirmity overtake me, and I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for life, and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet; and may the evening's twilight find me gentle still.

When you love someone you leave every possibility open to them, and in spite of all the memories of the past you are ready to be surprised, again and again surprised, at how different they are, how various, not a finished image.

In the carriages of the past you can't go anywhere.

Let us never know what old age is. Let us know the happiness time brings and not count the years.

In the middle of the night, things well up from the past that are not always cause for rejoicing--the unsolved, the painful encounters, the mistakes, the reasons for shame or woe. But all, good or bad, give me food for thought, food to grow on.

Youth is given. One must put it awaylike a doll in a closet,take it out and play with it onlyon holidays.How to Be Old [1963]