Quotes About Memories

Once people are not here physically, the spiritual remains. We still connect, we can communicate, we can give and receive love and forgiveness. There is love after someone dies.

It's a wonderful feeling to be a bridge to the past and to unite generations. The sport of baseball does that, and I am just a part of it.

As they say in sports, the older you get, the better you used to be.

A trophy carries dust. Memories last forever.

If I miss anything about the sport, it's the camaraderie of old teammates.

Enjoy your life, the precious moments you have.

Minor sports in the community is fun and recreation for everyone, not just the elite. I think back to my days in minor hockey and those are my fondest memories, having fun.

I have been a fan all my life, but now I have been out of football for over 10 years, and out of baseball for a little over six years and I don't go to games.

Baseball hasn't forgotten me. I go to a lot of old-timers games and I haven't lost a thing. I sit in the bullpen and let people throw things at me. Just like old times.

A good life is a collection of happy memories.

I spent six years at United and I owe them everything that I am today. I made history at United and won many trophies. It was a pleasure to play at Old Trafford.

This journey started about 42 years ago in a little town of Brunswick, Georgia.

As a kid in British Columbia, going back a long way, I learned to skate.

A photograph never grows old. You and I change, people change all through the months and years but a photograph always remains the same. How nice to look at a photograph of mother or father taken many years ago. You see them as you remember them. But as people live on, they change completely. That is why I think a photograph can be kind.

Let us drink together, fellows, as we did in days of yore. And still enjoy the golden hours that Fortune has in store; The absent friends remembered be, in all that's sung or said, And Love immortal consecrate the memory of the dead.

La mia biblioteca è una sorta di autobiografia. Nel proliferare degli scaffali vi è un libro per ogni istante della mia vita, per ogni amicizia, per ogni delusione, per ogni cambiamento. Segnano i miei anni come le pietre bianche che indicano la strada di un pellegrino.

Only times and places, only names and ghosts.

Words are the thread on which we string our experiences.

There was much of Henry Wimbush in the long gallery and the library, something of Anne, perhaps, in the morning-room. That was all. Among the accumulations of ten generations the living had left but few traces.

Preparation for ultimate death is to be aware that your highest and most intense form of life is accompanied by, and conditional upon, a series of small deaths all the time. We have to be dying to these obsessive memories..

Something of the same kind may happen in the posthumous state. After having had a glimpse of the unbearable splendor of ultimate Reality, and after having shuttled back and forth between heaven and hell, most souls find it possible to retreat into that more reassuring region of the mind, where they can use their own and other people's wishes, memories and fancies to construct a world very like that in which they lived on earth.

What do I mean when I say that I think I was Eliphaz Lévi ? No more than that I possess some of his most essential characteristics, and that some of the incidents in his life are remembered by me as my own. There doesn't seem any impossibility about these bundles of Sankhara being shared by two or more persons. We certainly do not know enough of what actually takes place to speak positively on any such point. Don't lose any sleep over it.

quizá, después de todo, baste con una buena compañía para sentir que hemos tenido una buena vida.

Además, ¿cuál era mi idioma verdadero? Sabía el alemán, por mi padre. Con Ruth hablaba el inglés, idioma de mis estudios secundarios; con Mouche, a menudo el francés; el español de mi Epítome de Gramática-Estos, Fabio…- con Rosario. Pero este último idioma era también el de las Vidas de Santos, empastadas en terciopelo morado, que tanto me había leído mi Madre: Santa Rosa de Lima, Rosario.