Quotes About Memories

My primary school teacher once poured a bottle of curdled school milk forcefully down my throat. Then I threw it up all over her suede shoes. I'd rather have drunk from the spittoon in Barney's barber shop.

I enjoyed school - although I ran away on the first day. I'd reminded the teacher that it was nearly time for 'Watch With Mother' on TV.

We had no electricity, no gas. Food was probably our greatest entertainment - the most fun thing that we could do was food.

Seeing the smile in your eyes, I have forgotten that people die

I think there's something great and generic about goldfish. They're everybody's first pet.

My Dad, a small-town lawyer, was also named Paul. Until we lost him when I was 16, he was a gentle presence in my life. I like to think he'd be proud of me and my sister and brothers, because I'm sure proud of him and of where I come from, Janesville, Wisconsin.

The past is a ghost that haunts us. Ghosts must be banished.

Yes," Borkas said. "Things changed after you lost Murra. When was that, four years ago now?" Mors nodded. She hadn't heard anyone else say her wife's name in a long time.

the scarred face of a clone, the features an echo of so many faces from Vader's past. Rex. Cody. Fives. Echo. The roster of names moved through Vader's mind, each of them a trigger for a memory, each of them a ghost from his past.

Fire surrounded them. Fire. Mustafar. Obi-Wan. He used his ever-present anger to burn away the memories, but the charred husks of the past clung to the forefront of his consciousness. Padmé.

An emigration is possibly the loneliest experience a man can suffer. In a way it is not a country he has lost but a home, or even just a part of a home, a room perhaps, or something in that room that he has had to leave behind, and which haunts him. I remember a window-seat I used to sit in as a youth, reading Pushkin and teaching myself to smoke scented cigarettes. That window is one I am always knocking at, asking to be let in.

Chanson d'automne Les sanglots longs Des violons De l'automne Blessent mon coeur D'une langueur Monotone. Tout suffocant Et blême, quand Sonne l'heure, Je me souviens Des jours anciens Et je pleure ; Et je m'en vais Au vent mauvais Qui m'emporte Deçà, delà, Pareil à la Feuille morte.

Ce fut le temps sous de clairs ciels, (Vous en souvenez-vous, Madame?) De baisers superficiels Et des sentiments à fleur d'âme. It was a time of cloudless skies, (My lady, do you recall?) Of kisses that brushed the surface And feelings that shook the soul.

Ceux qui s'aiment ne se sentent ni ne se voient vieillir ; les vifs plaisirs qui étaient les leurs autrefois sont devenus des souvenirs dont ils sont heureux et fiers ; l'entente avec un être de l'autre sexe, sans la moindre réticence, sans une seule querelle en deux décennies, est à tout âge une félicité.

Missing those all-important life events like weddings and grandchildren, not celebrating the victories and special experiences or being there to offer support and share the tears of painful circumstances that were sure to invade the lives of those I loved. My grandparents and parents were supposed to die before me. Leaving behind all the precious people in my life would be my greatest regret. I was a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. I couldn't imagine not being

Celebrating the times of your life, and the life in your times. from IT AIN'T ALL ABOUT THE COOKIN

More than the secret of the cat had drawn [Ned] to the nursing home. It was Mr. Scully himself. He'd known him, his habits, the things he knew how to do, the way he made his bread, the way he could get a fire started so quickly in the stove, the stories he told, the smile he gave Ned when he poured rum into his own tea, his memories of his long life.

She can't understand that books don't get used up. I've tried to explain that they aren't like clothes or furniture-that we keep them because we might want to read them again. And because they remind us of how we felt when we read them.

We knew what we had and what it meant, and though so much had happened since for both of us, there was nothing like those years in Paris, after the war. Life was painfully pure and simple and good, and I believed Ernest was his best self then. I got the very best of him. We got the best of each other.

Those early days in Paris were nearly forty years behind him and yet, in the final pages he writes of Hadley, "I wished I had died before I ever loved anyone but her.

That was the thing about experience. It took distant strangers and made them a family. A family of one moment. There was no other way to see it, even as we scattered to the wind.

I had come alive here...this was my home, and though one day it would all trickle through my fingers like so much red dust, for as long as childhood lasted it was a heaven fitted exactly to me. A place I knew by heart. The one place in the world I'd been made for.

I ran into Berkeley Cole again. It had been two years since my coming-out party, that night he and Denys Finch Hatton had recited poetry for me in blindingly white coats,

I'd managed to ignore how the ceremony would take away the boy I knew for ever and also the fierce warrior girl who had loved him. It already had. Those children were gone.