Quotes About Memories

I love telling 'first' stories - first loves, first college experience, first kiss, all of those kinds of things.

I remember my mom telling me that when John Belushi died, my dad cried. I remember thinking that was strange as a child, but today, I kind of get it.

The same way one tells a recipe, one tells a family history. Each one of us has our past locked inside.

My dad leaving my life. That's the biggest thing that happened to me. I just remember what he tells me, the memories, and try to move on forward each day, knowing that he's still here, looking down on me.

My dad tells me that he took us to a pantomime when I was very, very small - panto being a sort of English phenomenon. There's traditionally a part of the show where they'll invite kids up on the stage to interact with the show. I was too young to remember this, but my dad says that I was running up onstage before they even asked us.

'Beneath the Piano' by The Devil Makes Three somehow reminds me of an old Johnny Cash song. The song is a lot of fun and tells a story.

Every year, my father comes by and samples the chremslach - like quality control - and tells me how they taste just like his mother's.

My sister tells me I began singing before I could even talk. My first performance was of a song called 'My Blue Heaven,' which I began singing when I was a year and a half.

My grandparents lived with us. And I remember watching 'Doctor Who' with my granddad on his new telly. These were the days before remote controls but my granddad, being quite a resourceful sort of chap, had fashioned his own remote control - which was a length of bamboo pole with a bit of cork that he'd glued on the end.

All my interesting stories are from before I was on television. Nothing interesting has happened to me since then. Maybe it's because the most interesting thing in my life is the show and that's on telly.

We had a black and white telly in the corner of the room that had three channels. There was nothing to keep you around the house. It was a different time.

The thing that I miss more than anything is doing Saturday morning telly. It was the best, best, best three years.

When I talk about it, now people imagine I had an impoverished childhood, especially when I tell people we used to have to put coins in the side of the telly. But we were really happy. Mum never complained, there was always music playing in the house and we were always dancing around. It was a great childhood.

Men say, 'I've loved you since I was 7 years old,' and I say, 'Well, you never contacted me.' And very often women say, 'Do youuuuuu know what I have?' and I want to say, 'Yessssssss, I do.' Because inevitably the answer is, 'An original Shirley Temple doll.'

Growing up, I watched a lot of Shirley Temple movies.

Banaras really pulls you. I had been to the city several years ago for a film shoot. Though I have very fleeting memories of that stay, I still remember that I had gone to Kashi Vishwanath temple and shopped for some Banarasi saris.

I absolutely love Shirley Temples. I don't know why, but ever since I was young, it's always been my favorite thing to drink!

I had a big Akita, Yoshi, who was fabulous. I loved him. We lost him when he was 12, and I've never been able to replace him. Normally, most people lose a pet and get another and keep going on. But it just felt wrong to me it felt disloyal.

Books that have been owned by someone for many years for a specific purpose carry not just memories, (that is obvious), they also reveal their owner's true values; for the books we own may indicate something about us very different from what we think.

June recalls as a child being raised in a loveless home: "I remember climbing up on the stool in the morning to get the cereal down from the cupboard. And when I took a bath, I took it alone. I didn't have rubber duckies or anything like that to play with. My grandmother would leave me and come back thirty minutes later to see me shivering in the cold water.

One kind kiss before we part, Drop a tear, and bid adieu; Though we sever, my fond heart Till we meet shall pant for you.

She did not come to my dreams and memories as a sweet recollection; she brought back the shame and humiliation I'd felt when I realized, standing in her kitchen, that love can be faked and, therefore, never fully trusted.

There come a day in every man's life when he stops looking forward and starts looking back.

with a napkin. "Does it ever get better?" Celia set down her wine and put out a hand, taking Maggie's. "You know I'd be lying if I said it did, right?" Maggie nodded. "I know." "In time, though, you learn how to live with the pain. You learn how to live with all the memories, and you learn not to fear them. You learn to embrace them, to welcome them." Maggie started to cry. Celia got up and