Quotes About Memories

The old memories were making him angry, boiling up inside of him. That was good. It meant he was still alive. Dead men couldn't fight. Only living men, fuming at injustice and enraged at the loss of their fellows, fought, and won wars. "Cap'n

missed that place. Lavish, finely decorated

When I was a kid I had this funny blonde hair and everyone called me 'Chick' because I looked like Tweety Bird.

They'd left behind their stone houses in Caer Luel and beautiful white fountains, their red-tile roofs and straight roads, their perfectly round red bowls with pictures of dogs hunting deer around the rim, their exact corners and glass cups. And now the marble statues had lost their paint and stood melancholy white streaked with moss; tiles had blown off in storms and been patched with reed; men built fire sands directly on the cracked and broken remnants of once-brilliant mosaics.

Begu laughed, too, that shimmery, silvery laugh Hild would always associate with light along with a wet beach and the smell of the sea and took her hand.

It was the kind of kitchen where a lot of family conversations happen.

A face of many stories, some finished, some beginning.

Sunshine and musk and dusty violets, but so faint. I breathed again: her skin, and her hair, oh dear god her hair…Tears ran down my face, my neck, dripped on my hands onto her shirt. All I had left of her. So faint. So very faint.

Galloping over the Yorkshire moors, wild as a lynx, with Christie Horley. Another life I had left.

The girl looked at the only home she had known, the furniture she had built with her own hands, the beautiful bowl by the hearth as new as the day the smith made it, and at her mother, who sat as though made of stone facing the cooling hearth with her back to the entrance and to the girl.

Time flies and draws us with it. The moment in which I am speaking is already far from me.

My mom dyed my hair red when I was little using vegetable dye so it wouldn't damage my hair.

She was gone, and all that was left was the space you'd grown around her, like a tree that grows around a fence. For a long time, it remained hollow. Years, maybe. And when at last it was filled again, you knew that the new love you felt for a woman would have been impossible without Alma. If it weren't for her, there would never have been an empty space, or the need to fill it.

My breath came in panicked gulps. Memories of the image at the bottom of the cistern forced themselves into my head. The open mouth, the clawing hands, the flailing feet . . . I wrapped one arm around the railing and shrank against the wall. "Brad!" He

The good moments of the present are the good memories you will carry into the future.

It was strange to realize that after this night I would never see it again as it was. The room had never looked so beautiful as it did at that moment.

I cannot go any further without mentioning my favourite biscuit of all time, now sadly, tragically, extinct. The oaty, crumbly, demerara notes of the long-forgotten Abbey Crunch will remain forever on my lips. I loved the biscuit as much as anything I have ever eaten, and often, in moments of solitude, I still think about its warm, buttery, sugary self.

You don't go around grieving all the time, but the grief is still there and always will be.

On the whole, I prefer Christmas as an adult than I did as a child.

And, in a funny way, each death is different and you mourn each death differently and each death brings back the death you mourned earlier and you get into a bit of a pile-up.

That Great Cocktail Cabinet in the Sky...

The grief is not over, it will never be over. It still trips me up in unexpected moments, stumbling me all over again. What does it: a reminisce with Paul, the sight of a mate laughing so easily with their mum, a Klimt painting we both loved. Simple things. Two steps forward, one step back, righting myself and then not. But the moving forward is stronger, swifter now; the seam of melancholy more hidden. Yes, climbing back into the world. Firm.

You feel something you haven't for years: it's to do with university parties with bathtubs of alcohol and the smell of hamburgers on fingers and beer in a kiss. You should have been disgusted by all that but you weren't. You'd be wet so quick; to get their clothes off, to have their weight upon you, to be rammed against a wall with your leg curled up.

Live in the moment. Moments make history.