Quotes About Memories

My husband and I love to travel, we say we want to cover the earth before the earth covers us!

Edward wasn't supposed to leave Jordan, though. They were meant to age together. That loss continues to be spiked with pain; it will never be soothed. And he can see, objectively, that Shay's life without him would have been woven with different moments, friends or lack of friends, different fights with Besa, different books and different struggles.

The passage of time, and the details that spun some moments into unforgettable memories and others into thin air, traveled with Sylvie--the swirling atmosphere of her own life--while she walked.

But perhaps what felt impossible was leaving that person behind. When your love for a person is so profound that it's part of who you are, then the absence of the person becomes part of your DNA, your bones, and your skin. Charlie's and

He pictures the nursery, with its baby books and rocking chair. His body had jerked backward when he'd entered on the first day. He'd wanted to leave immediately, somehow knowing that those four walls couldn't bear both Lacey's grief and his own.

I miss you, Daddy. I wish you could have seen me as a mother. It would have made you smile.

always be one of her great joys that her father had said this to her and that she was able to delight him by paraphrasing one of his favorite poems: "We are not contained between our hats and boots." And then Mrs. DiPietro had come outside with their bags, and the father and daughter had walked home, their arms touching, molecules dancing between them, and the stars turning on like tiny lightbulbs in the evening sky.

He's been sucker-punched by memories of his brother. This happens sometimes, and he knows he has to ride the memories out.

He watches his new life walk into his old life.

When your love for a person is so profound that it's part of who you are, then the absence of the person becomes part of your DNA, your bones, and your skin.

You and your sisters have so many reference points, such a dense history," William said. "I never get used to it.

Sylvie and her sisters had known themselves under their father's gaze. And with that gaze gone, the threads that had tied their family so tightly together had loosened.

You know what Daddy would say when he saw Sylvie," Julia said in a quiet voice. Emeline and Izzy nodded, and Cecelia said, "Hello beautiful." —

You and your sisters have so many reference points, such a dense history,

When your love for a person is so profound that it's part of who you are, then the absence of the person becomes part of your DNA, your bones, and your skin. Charlie's and Sylvie's deaths were

Now that you're there, where everything is known—tell me: What else lived in that house besides us?

It is good here: rustle and snow-crunch... Ski tracks on the splendid finery of the snow; a memory that long ages ago we passed here together.

I have much to do: I must kill my memories down to the last one, I must change my soul into stone , I must learn to live again.

Will you forgive me these November days?

I, the half-mad mourner of buried days

Forgive me that I ignored the sun And that I lived in sorrow.

He was jealous, fearful and tender, He loved me like God's only light, And that she not sing of the past times He killed my bird colored white. He said, in the lighthouse at sundown: "Love me, laugh and write poetry!" And I buried the joyous songbird Behind a round well near a tree. I promised that I would not mourn her. But my heart turned to stone without choice, And it seems to me that everywhere And always I'll hear her sweet voice.

I will lead a man to dear one -- I don't want the little joy -- And I'll quietly lay to sleep The glad, tired little boy. In a chilly room once more I will pray to Mother of God, It is hard to be a hermit, To be happy is also hard. Only fiery sleep will come to me, I'll enter a temple on the hill, Five-domed, white, and stone-hewn, On the paths remembered well.

An as it's going often at love's breaking, The ghost of first days came again to us, The silver willow through window then stretched in, The silver beauty of her gentle branches. The bird began to sing the song of light and pleasure To us, who fears to lift looks from the earth, Who are so lofty, bitter and intense, About days when we were saved together.