Quotes About Memories

Teachers want to know what difference they made in the lives of their pupils, and reunions are a great place to find out.

You'd like my grandfather. And he'd like you, I think. Happy Grandfather's Day to him, wherever he is. If you see him, let him take you out to see the stars some night. And tell him I said I'd really like it if he came home for Christmas.

as one by one the scents and sounds and names of long-forgotten places come gradually back and beckon to us.

and I shall keep a pony-chaise to jog about the country in, just as I used to in the good old days, before I got restless, and

We have seen that there are two misconceptions involved in the myth that memory is a thing. One is that memory is a thing (a tangible structure rather than an abstract process) and the other is that memory is a thing (one memory rather than many memories).

Quante volte sono entrato e uscito da quella porta. Non è così, Mary? Secondo te quante volte, caro? Sei giorni alla settimana, cinquantadue settimane all'anno per cinquantacinque anni, rispose lui. Quanto fa? Fa una vita intera. È vero. È la vita di un uomo, disse Dad

As the weather held that fall Louis often walked out at night past her house and looked at the light shining upstairs in her bedroom, her bedside lamp that he knew and the room with its big bed and dark wooden dresser and the bathroom located down the hall, and remembered everything about the room and the nights lying in the dark talking and the closeness of it all.

Somebody who would go to Italy with you and get up on a Saturday morning and take you up in the mountains and get snowed on and come home and be filled up with it all.

There were moments where I could make her laugh so unselfconsciously that she felt like a child again, expanding into her past as she was moving into her future.

Our scars tell stories of who we are and what we did. A person without marks hasn't done anything.

But he had been invited to a game. An adventure. Adventures were often uncomfortable, but never boring. He composed an email to Kelly whose email was—Asil sighed—[email protected] and arranged to meet her at his favorite Thai restaurant

Even if we never talk again after tonight, please know that I'm forever changed because of who you are, and what you've meant to me.

She would never leave her mark on Mammy's heart the way her brothers had, because Mammy's heart was like a pallid beach where Laila's footprints would forever wash away beneath the waves of sorrow that swelled and crashed, swelled and crashed.

America was different. America was a river, roarng along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins.

Regret... when it comes to you, I have oceans of it.

She wished she could visit Mariam's grave, to sit with her awhile, leave a flower or two. But she sees now that it doesn't matter. Mariam is never very far.... Mariam is in her own heart, where she shines with the bursting radiance of a thousand suns.

Not a word passes between us, not because we have nothing to say, but because we don't have to say anything - that is how, it is between people who are each other's first memories

What good is regret? It brings back nothing. What we have lost is irretrievable.

In Kabul, hot running water had been like fathers, a rare commodity.

Kabul had become a city of ghosts for me. A city of harelipped ghosts. America was different. America was a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins.

Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first words. Mine was Baba. His was Amir. My name. Looking back on it now, I think the foundation for what happened in the winter of 1975 —and all that followed— was already laid in those first words.

Only two weeks since he had left, and it was already happening. Time, blunting the edges of those sharp memories.

She remembered all too well how time had dragged without him, how she had shuffled about feeling waylaid, out of balance. How shr could ever cope with his permanent absence?

And I dream that someday you will return to Kabul to revisit the land of our childhood. If you do, you will find an old faithful friend waiting for you.