Quotes About Memories

I guess I'm what you call a slush-piler. I just sent my manuscripts to the slush pile of publishers and hoped for the best. Over seven years, I was rejected seven times on three different books. The fourth attempt was picked up by a small publisher, and I still have great memories of staying up all night, talking to my brother and sisters (my dad called me at 2:30 in the morning because I was overseas).

Their childish high spirits succeeded entirely in diverting my thoughts from the subject that they usually circled, like bees buzzing around a darkly oozing honey-comb, and no sooner did I step into the open air and feel my muscles stretched to the full again in an improvised race with the young woman than I was the fit, carefree boy of the past once more.

If all these people were dead, this festivity would be extremely agreeable.

Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.

Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would, I'd never leave.

If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart. I'll stay there forever.

Memories should console, not enslave.

The house had been torn down. Nothing is left but the old white fence. There used to be privet bushes everywhere. The smell of privet is the smell of summer for me, I say to Catherine. Yes, Mom. she says, I know, Your memories are my memories now.

What if some man wanted to tell me how many feet from a dwelling a cesspool needed to be? What if he wanted to talk about the pros and cons of raising the mortgage rate? What if he wanted to talk about his childhood? Or worse, mine!

I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life.

I w ko?cu to nie lata w twoim ?yciu si? licz?. To ?ycie w twoich latach

Ä°nsanlar söylediklerinizi ya da yapt?klar?n?z? unutur,ama onlara ne hissettirdiklerinizi asla unutmaz.

Can't repeat the past? We do it every day. We build a life, or try to, of pleasures and duties that will become routine, so that every day will be the same day, or nearly so, the day of our life, Randall Jarrell called it.

Tenderness toward one's lost self is sentimental; tenderness toward one's lost longings is just life.

Cattle and fat sheep are things to be had for the lifting, and tripods can be won, and the tawny high heads of horses, but a man's life cannot come back again, it cannot be lifted Nor captured again by force, once it has crossed the teeth's barrier.

In those days, now it was in those days, In those nights, now it was in those nights, In those years, now it was in those years

I could write a guidebook about this city, this fallen city. Street by street, house by house, church by church. What happened in this building, who was betrayed, and by whom, in this apartment, who waited for whom on this street corner. And why the person never came.

I ran over without a word, cradled PLT tenderly in my arms and carried her upstairs. Placing her on my own bed, I wrapped my mortally wounded pet in my best school scarf and lay down next to her. It was a night of grief I have never forgotten.

He puts on Sam Cooke's Night Beat.

When I am sad and weary When I think all hope has gone When I walk along High Holborn I think of you with nothing on.

I knew why. I knew I loved you from the moment you barreled out of your house and demanded to help us move in. From the first time you held my hand and led me down to our fort by the cul-de-sac." She sighed. "I loved you every minute of it. And every single time we got close enough that I thought you might love me too, you pulled away.

There are many gifts a friend brings to a woman's life. History. Empathy. Honesty. Lucky was the woman who kept a childhood friend because that friend remembered what you looked like, who you were, and your people. Lucky was the woman who had a friend from the age of ten, when girls were brave, gutsy, and full of questions and had the time and pep to seek the answers. That friend knew who you really were. That friend had seen your soul.

La famiglia eterna.

Enza studied the photograph of her parents on their wedding day as if it were a map. In a sense it was, as they were creating a destination, a life together.