Quotes About Memories

Libby's hair was dyed again--not one color, but dozens. I thought about what she'd said about her ninth birthday. About the cupcakes my mom had baked for her, and the rainbow colors she'd clipped into her hair, and I wondered how much of her life Libby had spent trying to get that one perfect moment back.

I don't believe places can be haunted. Only people, and not in a supernatural way. People are only haunted by their pasts.

Each photo is like a novel I can never open, Gary had explained once. I can hold it in my hand and only begin to imagine what's inside -- the lives these people might have led. Sometimes if there was a little clue on the photo - a name, date, or place - he'd try to research it...

He'd brought his 35 mm camera, the one he used to take photos on his birding trips, and was snapping pictures of it all.

I've lived here ... my whole life. It's where I lost all my baby teeth. Where tiny hamster, gerbil, and bird skeletons lie in rotted-out cardboard coffins beneath the oak tree in our backyard. Also where, if some future archaeologist goes digging, they'll find the remains of a plush toy: a gray terrier named Toto I buried after the accident.

she swore she was breathing 1971 air—it smelled like dust and cigarettes and long-faded perfume. Like ghosts, if ghosts had a smell.

For what it's worth, you showed me something, Ultraviolet - there is such a thing as a perfect day.

The thing is, they were all perfect days.

What would I have said to him if I'd known I would never see him again?

This is what I know about loss: - It doesn't get better. You just (somewhat) get used to it. - You never stop missing the people who go away. - For something that isn't there anymore, it weighs a ton.

I've always thought you should be able to freeze time. This way you could hit the Pause button at a really good point in your life so that nothing changes

Every forty seconds, someone is left behind to cope with the loss.

One entire wall is covered in pictures and Post-it notes and napkins and torn pieces of paper.

The thing I realize is that it's not what you take, it's what you leave.

I feel homesick for this London I left behind.

Like everything else that doesn't last, today is gone now, but it was a pretty good day.

I will always be here, in the offerings and people I left behind.

The wall is a place to keep track of thoughts, as fast as they come, and remember them when they go away. Anything interesting or weird or even halfway inspired goes up there.

I thought of the pieces of me I'd left behind, a piece here, a piece there, scattered like bread crumbs. How much of me was left?

I remember her smile and her laugh when I was my best self and she looked at me like I could do no wrong and was whole. I remember how she looked at me the same way even when I wasn't.

we dont remember days, we remember moments

It's funny how the bad things stay with you and the good things sometimes get lost.

The thing I realise is that it's not what you take, it's what you leave.

Why do some love stories have a shelf life and others last forever?