Quotes About Memories

Didn't help to ponder things that were forever gone. It only made a body restless and fill up with bees, all wanting to sting something.

Until then we're going to keep making memories like this, moments when we're the only two people in the whole world. And when we get scared or lonely or confused, we'll pull out these memories and wrap them around us and they'll make us feel safe. And strong.

I watch some kids ask the cafeteria ladies to sign their books. What do they write: Hope your chicken patties never bleed? Or, maybe, May your Jell-O always wiggle?

There is something about Christmas that requires a rug rat. Little kids make Christmas fun. I wonder if could rent one for the holidays. When I was tiny we would by a real tree and stay up late drinking hot chocolate and finding just the right place for the special decorations. It seems like my parents gave up the magic when I figured out the Santa lie. Maybe I shouldn't have told them I knew where the presents really came from. It broke their hearts.

There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closest is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them.

The gloaming that closed over us the cemetery had crawled inside his skin.

They were coming, on wings from far away, all the pictures and voices, smells, tastes, all the everything from the past was flying toward me as fast as it could.

Nothing chases away the sand or the memories engraved on the back of my eyelids. They play on a continuous loop, with smells and sound and sorrow.

I head for my closet after school. I want to take the poster of Maya Angelou home, and I'd like to keep some of my tree pictures and my turkey-bone sculpture. The rest of the stuff can stay, so long as it doesn't have my name on it. Who knows, some other kids may need a safe place to run to next year.

our culture has the expectation that the memories of a happy childhood will somehow ground you and prepare you for adult life. But what about the memories that cut, that wound, that won't heal?

We carried cut hay from the heart of the rick, packed tight as tobacco flake, with grass and wild flowers juicily fossilized within – a whole summer embalmed in our arms.

I'm clutching my favorite record, More of the Monkees. I listened to that album incessantly, thinking that Davy Jones might "forget that girl" and find the kindergarten siren of his dreams. I look like a five-year-old mod with dark circles under her eyes.

I've seen so much stuff that I had to purge 90 percent of my childhood memories from my brain in order to make room for passwords and PINs.

I've seen more than half a century of events. I've seen so much stuff that I had to purge 90 percent of my childhood memories from my brain in order to make room for passwords and PINs.

had to purge 90 percent of my childhood memories from my brain in order to make room for passwords and PINs.

I haven't seen her in five years. Well, hell, I haven't had a cigarette in twelve, and I damn well wanted one for a minute there. Sometimes I don't think anybody ever gets over anything.

I went into the bathroom and caught sight of my reflection in the mirror over the sink. All my years looked back at me, and I could feel their weight, pressing down on my shoulders. I ran the shower hot and stood under it for a long time...

I heard the pitter patter of little old feet.

and all at once it seemed that past and present had joined again without any divisions in it, and that all my memories and impressions had ordered themselves into one complete pattern whose metaphor was always the shining city of the disinherited — a city now trying softly to spread the sticky prismatic wings of a new-born dragonfly on the night.

Today is a sad day in Country music. We have lost another piece of history. George Jones was not only a good singer, but was a good friend. He will be missed by many.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad.

When you get older, it feels like happy memories and sad memories are pretty much the same thing. It is all just emotion in the end. And any of it can make you weep.

I wonder if I could take back every 'I love you' ever said to you, would I do it?

Never shall my sad eyes again behold Those pleasures which my thoughts did then unfold.