Quotes About Memories

Remember that happy moments often fly away from our hands on the wings of time, so do anything ,but let it produce joy.

Reminiscence rides a serene mare with a fluffy duke at the bridle.

True love stories are never forgotten.

Grief changes us forever. Rather than keeping that darkness in our heart, we have to learn to fill that place with beautiful memories forever.

Life is all about creating special moments. In the end, only these special moments will matter.

My mom took me to see Carnal Knowledge and The Wild Bunch and all these kind of movies when I was a kid.

I'll send you a postcard, partner.

Memories are like dreams, free of meaning save for that which we choose to impart.

the Sangam Tamil corpus is essentially a literature of diverse landscapes and a plural demography. Sangam texts stand witness to the plural social systems, polity, cultural ethos and ideology of the early Tamils. At the same time, they also represent some of the 'carried forward' memories that probably emulate the ideologies of the IVC [Indus Valley Civilization], including its inherent pluralism.

When a man retires and time is no longer a matter of urgent importance, his colleagues generally present him with a watch.

It's been a pretty fun ride, to tell you the truth.

All right. When I was hiding in a small town in Poland with my mother, of course I didn't have many toys. In fact, I had only two—a doll and a little bear I later named Refugee. He was one of those Steiff bears, but he stayed with me after the war and into adulthood and now he's in the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington. The copy they made of him to sell in the gift shop is one of their most popular items.

Gains for all our losses There are gains for all our losses There are balms for all our pains But when youth the dream departs It takes some thing from our hearts And never comes again We are stronger and are better Under manhood's sterner reign Still we feel that some thing sweet Followed youth with flying feet And will never come again. Some thing beautiful has vanished And we sigh for it in vain We behold it every where---- On the earth and in the air---- But it never comes again.

The things we do outlast our mortality. The things we do are like monuments that people build to honor heroes after they've died. They're like the pyramids that the Egyptians built to honor the pharaohs. Only instead of being made of stone, they're made out of the memories people have of you.

No nostalgia is felt as keenly as nostalgia for things that never existed.

You've been gone for decades, you hid deep in my lakes, why now, why infect my dreams now? What flood is this?

I told her I was not sure I could bear living with memories, she said, Look up at the stars, look, they are not there, what you see is the memory of what once was, once upon a time.

What is life if not a habitation to loss?

I imagine looking at the room through a stranger's eyes. Books everywhere, stacks and stacks, shelves and bookcases, stacks atop each shelf, I in the creaky chair that hasn't been reupholstered since I bought it in the early sixties. I have been its only occupant; years ago its foam molded into the shape of my posterior. The accompanying ottoman holds two stacks of books that haven't been disturbed in years, except for semiweekly dusting.

Los libros en sí mismos casi nunca son aburridos, excepto las memorias de los presidentes de Estados Unidos (no, no, Nixon); o mejor dicho, las memorias de los estadounidenses en general. Es el síndrome «Vivo en el país más rico del mundo, pero compadeceos de mí porque de joven tenía los pies planos y una vagina maloliente, pero al final he triunfado». ¡Puaj! Libros

Who are you, reader, reading my poems a hundred years hence? I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. Open your doors and look abroad. From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before. In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years.

Life has become richer by the love that has been lost.

I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take my departure. Here I give back the keys of my door---and I give up all claims to my house. I only ask for last kind words from you. We were neighbours for long, but I received more than I could give. Now the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out. A summons has come and I am ready for my journey.

My heart is homesick to-day for the one sweet hour across the sea of time.