Quotes About Memories

Alas, Abdullah and Pari, Baba Ayub's days of happiness came to an end.

could not picture that Father had once swung on a swing. He could not imagine that Father had once been a boy, like him. A boy. Carefree, light on his feet. Running headlong into the open fields with his playmates. Father, whose hands were scarred, whose face was crosshatched with deep lines of weariness. Father, who might as well have been born with shovel in hand and mud under his nails.

time can be a greedy thing—sometimes it steals all the details for itself.

she had hang up knowing that for the rest of her life it would slam into her at random moments, the guilt, the terrible remorse, catching her off guard, and that she would ache to the bones with it. She would wrestle with this, now and for all days to come. It would be the dripping faucet at the back of her mind.

Tidak ada kata yang terucap, tidak ada yang perlu kami katakan, inilah harta yang dimiliki oleh mereka yang menyimpan kenangan yang sama, yang saling menjadi kenangan pertama, yang menyusu dari payudara yang sama.

She wished she could visit Mariam's grave, to sit with her awhile, leave a flower or two. But Laila sees now that it doesn't matter. Mariam is never very far. She is here, in these walls they've repainted, in the trees they've planted, in the blankets that keep the children warm, in these pillows and books and pencils.

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

LAILA WOULD REMEMBER the muted ceremony in bits and fragments. The cream-colored stripes of Rasheed's suit. The sharp smell of his hair spray. The small shaving nick just above his Adam's apple. The rough pads of his tobacco-stained fingers when he slid the ring on her. The pen. Its not working. The search for a new pen. The contract. The signing, his sure-handed, hers quavering. The prayers. Noticing, in the mirror, that Rasheed had trimmed his eyebrows.

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.

Untukmu keseribu kalinya - Hassan si pengejar layang-layang berbibir sumbing

I watched Baba's car pull away from the curb, taking with it the person whose first spoken word had been my name.

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

but time can be a greedy thing—sometimes it steals all the details for itself.

Not a word passes between us, not because we have nothing to say, but because we don't have to say anything—that's how it is between people who are each other's first memories, people who have fed from the same breast.

My dear Martin, in the long summer of childhood, when I was a boy the age you are now, your uncles and I spread our mattress on the roof of your grandfather's farmhouse outside of Homs.

The previous year, Baba had surprised Hassan with a leather cowboy hat just like the one Clint Eastwood wore in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly—which had unseated The Magnificent Seven as our favorite Western.

Vì c?u, c? ngàn l?n r?i

Winter was every kid's favorite season in Kabul, at least those whose fathers could afford to buy a good iron stove. The reason was simple: They shut down school for the icy season. Winter to me was the end of long division and naming the capital of Bulgaria, and the start of three months of playing cards by the stove with Hassan, free Russian movies on Tuesday mornings at Cinema Park, sweet turnip qurma over rice for lunch after a morning of building snowmen.

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. If for nothing else, for that, I embraced America.

Revenirea in casa copilariei ma face sa simt dezorientat, ca si cum as citi finalul unui roman pe care l-am inceput si apoi l-am abandonat, cu multi ani in urma.

I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975.

She was just about the liveliest, happiest person I'd ever met. He smiled at the memory. She had this laugh. I swear it's why I married her, Laila, for that laugh. It bulldozed you. You stood no chance against it.

But in my quiet moments, in those long rides in the back of a bus or the bed of a truck, my mind always circles back to…

Peristiwa itu telah lama berlalu, tapi pengalamanku selama ini menunjukan bahwa kita tak akan pernah bisa mengubur masa lalu. Karena bagaimanapun, masa lalu akan selalu menyeruak mencari jalan keluar.