Quotes About Memories

It's a queer thing, growing up. The years pile up, Hap, but at the same time I'm still ever age I ever was. When we stood before those sea-giants, I felt five years old, awed and scared. When I see a pretty lady, I'm eighteen again! And when my bones remind me, I feel all of my sixty years. All those ages are still inside me, all at once. The years stack up like sediment, and the layers remain.

I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

there are so many people deadand so many sea-walls that the red sun used to split,and so many heads that the boats hit,and so many hands that have closed around kisses,and so many things I would like to forget.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Well, now If little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you Little by little If suddenly you forget me Do not look for me For I shall already have forgotten you If you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my life And you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots Remember That on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms And my roots will set off to seek another land

Tonight I can write the saddest lines I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Pablo Picasso, last words

If I've learned one thing, it's that relationships can be fleeting. There's no guarantee of the time one might have with another...There might not be a second chance if you let something special slip through your fingers. I don't want to live with regrets.

Sisters share the scent and smells — the feel of a common childhood.

Sisters never quite forgive each other for what happened when they were five.

Odd how much it hurts when a friend moves away- and leaves behind only silence.

There is love in these old logs and in RJ's workmanship and I can feel it every time I walk inside. We call such a limited number of relationships love in our lives, but there is always love around us—it's as ubiquitous as oxygen. It lives in the houses where we've slept, the kitchens where we've cooked, in the food we've prepared for the people we love and in the walls we have shaped with our hands.

A photograph tells the story of two lives simultaneously, the one in front of the camera as well as the one behind.

Conversations in French bubble around me like a long-forgotten perfume I am desperate to inhale. Familiar words trickle back, first in a stream then a river, though I've scarcely heard them in half a century.

I see my own mother now, as clearly as I had the day she watched me leave. She should have fought for me, protected me with her life.

But in her grief, I saw the richness of their marriage

Documentary crews and journalists are not an uncommon site in the lobby and hallways. They come for the stories, picking through our memories like rats through the rubble, trying to find a few morsels in the refuse before the rain washes it all away.

You reminded me who I used to be before the war. I want to be that person again.

him. "Maybe." "Well, before you make your decision, I just wanted to remind you of the good times we had.

Tattoos are like stories -- they're symbolic of the important moments in your life.

Some part of him had hoped that a woman might one day see beyond his scars to the man he was inside. But Megan was doing more than just ignoring his ugliness. She was _accepting_ it with a woman's gentleness, her touch soothing memories of savage pain, grief, loneliness.

In the years to come, when you lie alone in your bed and the night grows long and bitter, remember how it felt when I held you, kissed you, made you mine. Remember this night. Remember me.

You were the best time I'd ever had—until you became the worst time I've ever had.