Quotes About Memories

People who are very Tuned In to context tend to have strong connections from the hippocampus to areas in the prefrontal cortex that control executive functions and that hold long-term memories in the neocortex.

We come from a place that has always been inside us. Our words migrate helplessly. The world reflects only itself. Which is why we have to create our own memories.

That was when our love began for me, though late, the way a flock of darkness settles over your shoulders. I remember the muted reflections that smudged the water prowling among the lingering rocks, a snail crawling out of its shell, the drizzle of light, the blackened windows. It was when that the sun peeled away the dark from the air, the surface of the water, then the soul. —Richard Jackson, from "Place Message Here," The Cortland Review . Spring 2005.

The lost leaves measure our years; they are gone as the days are gone.

There should have been a better farewell. But in the end, there never is. And we take what meagre scraps we can find.

Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces. Someday the right one will catch you in between the eyes and you'll never see it coming.

I'm on the edge of vomiting up everything I ever ate since childhood, strained peas to chicken and waffles. Damn. Wrong memories. My stomach starts doing a hillbilly two-step.

Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.

When I was young, I had two older sisters, and since I was the youngest in my family, my mom took me around with her all the time. I was forever with her when she was having coffee in the middle of the afternoon with her three sisters. And they would talk about men. I absorbed a lot of that.

Erinnerungen sind der Reiseproviant auf dem Weg in die Zukunft.

Dear little house that I have lived in, there is happiness you have seen, even before I was born. In you is my life, and all the people I have loved are a part of you, so to go out of you, and leave you, is to leave myself.

These ecstatic moments of delight or fear, or both, "radioactive jewels buried within us, emitting energy across the years of our lives," as Chawla eloquently puts it, are most often experienced in nature during formative years.

I will always try To hold my head up to the sky If only just to let you know That straight from my heart I still miss you so.

the LP sleeve acquires the same scuffs, knocks and wrinkles as its purchaser. It engenders the same affection as the ageing groove. Reflective

There are people who come into our lives as welcome as a cool breeze in summer- and last about as long.

They say that time heals all wounds. But even as wounds heal they leave scars, token reminders of the pain.

It's our memories that make us who we are. Without them, we're nothing. If that means we have to hurt sometimes, it's worth it.

I am grateful for the Christmases of my life

Bad memories can attach themselves like barnacles to the hulls of our lives. And, like barnacles, they have a disproportionately large amount of drag.

The only promise of childhood is that it will end.

Grief is the truest evidence of love. And we should always be grateful to have something to love, even if it means that we have to lose it.

Life's book is written on the heart.

Maybe things always look different when we leave them, like a lover. Or a battleground. (Sometimes those are one and the same.)

The smells of Christmas are the smells of childhood