Quotes About Memories

New Year's Eve, where auld acquaintance be forgot. Unless, of course, those tests come back positive.

The bones came jumbled together from the kitchen... there was no way of telling my parents from my Brothers and Sisters. I put them all in the same urn. Sometimes, late at night, I hold them in my hands and cry.

I want to be six years old again - just for a day. It's not that things were so much better back then. They sucked. But I was the kind of kid who knew how to laugh about it all. That's what I want. I want to laugh.

My mom was a big 'Smurfs' fan, so she would force me to watch every Saturday morning. I had no choice in the matter. I would jump downstairs on Saturday morning, 'Hurray, cartoons!' and she would say, 'Smurfs! That's what you're watching.'

I was a big fan of 'The Smurfs' growing up, even though by default - my mom used to force me to watch because she was a 'Smurfs' fan.

Funny thing about the past. The older you get, the less it matters.

I grew up in Marcy Projects in Brooklyn, and my mom and pop had an extensive record collection, so Michael Jackson and Stevie Wonder and all of those sounds and souls of Motown filled the house.

When you're forty, half of you belongs to the past -- and when you're seventy, nearly all of you.

Rompre avec les choses réelles, écrit Chateaubriand, ce n'est rien. Mais rompre avec les souvenirs !… Le cœur se brise à la séparation des rêves. »

Ram?sesem singurii care mai credeam în noi în?ine. De aceea tr?iam între noi, vânam între noi, ne c?s?toream între noi. Lumea credea c? suntem îngânfa?i. Eram doar timizi. Ne era team? de ceilal?i oameni. Ne era team? de viitor, care era contrariul trecutului. Închideam în urma noastr? toate u?ile care d?deau spre o lume devenit? prea mare pentru noi ?i pentru speran?ele noastre înl?n?uite de amintiri.

Odata cu moartea unui b?trân piere pentru totdeauna ?i ceva din trecut ?i ceva din istorie. Ceea ce nu mai ?tiu nici eu din secretele bunicului meu, bunicii mele, unchilor mei, verilor mei, nu va putea s-o mai ?tie nimeni în urma mea.

The atmosphere of the night, the smell rising from the blocked latrines, overflowing with shit and yellow water, stir childhood memories which rise up like a black soil mined by moles.

certainly the only family member she ever saw). She could recall doing the things she supposed most other children did—playing in dirt, looking at pictures—without any accompanying grief or anger

I have to admit that this notebook, with its wilderness of blank pages, seems almost more threat than gift—for what can I write here that it will not hurt to remember? You

They are the last American generation to remember the years of the Great Depression, and the last to know a time before the end of World War II. Unlike the Greatest generation just before them, who were adults at the time, Silents experienced these events as children and adolescents. Nearly all Silents were born too late to serve in World War II, creating a dividing line in generational experience.

Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.

Never part without loving words to think of during your absence. It may be that you will not meet again in this life.

Our memories are the only paradise from which we can never be expelled.

Never part without loving words to think of during your absence. It may be that you will not meet again in life.

think that every one, no matter how many troubles he may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon.

I think that every one , no matter how many troubles the may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon. And if I ever have any children of my own, no matter how unhappy I may be, I am not going to let them have any cares until they grow up.

We all have a collection of memories that we would happily lose, but somehow those are just the ones that insist upon sticking.

I think that everyone, no matter how many troubles he may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon. And if I ever have any children of my own, no matter how unhappy I may be, I am not going to let them have any cares until they grow up.

Cultura e un cimitir de c?r?i ?i de alte obiecte disp?rute pentru vecie.