Quotes About Memories

The scars of war are not always visible.

Parting with friends is a sadness. A place is only a place.

It was mostly sweet, he whispered, and you were the sweetest of all.

The past is no farther away than your pillow.

Sad? Nonsense! Parting with friends is a sadness. A place is only a place.

I remember friends from wars all but we forgot. All of them distilled into each wound we caught. Those wounds are all painful places where we fought. Battles never left behind, ones we never sought. What is it that we spent and what was it we bought?

Sad? Nonsense! Parting with friends is a sadness. A place is only a place." He glanced at the charts on the table. "And Arrakis is just another place.

Memories which fastened him to places his flesh had never known presented him with answers to questions he had not asked.

I will await below," Stilgar said, "while Idaho makes farewell with his friends. Turok was the name of our dead friend. Remember that when it comes time to release his spirit. You are friends of Turok.

Why can't you free him?' 'Because he thinks my memories are his key to freedom. He thinks I am building our future out of our past.' 'Isn't that always the way of it, Leto?' 'No, dear Hwi.' 'Then how is it?' 'Most believe that a satisfactory future requires a return to an idealized past, a past which never in fact existed.

Memories rolled in his mind like the toothless mutterings of old women.

And then he remembered Hawat's words: Parting with people is a sadness; a place is only a place.

Sen Caladan'? sevdin Yitik hükümdar?n?n yas?n? tuttun... Ama ?st?rap öÄŸretti ki Silemez yeni â??klar Ebedi hayaletleri.

Within his head were wars, uncounted lives parceling out their ancient memories: violent accidents, love's languor, the colors of many places and many faces... the buried sorrows and leaping joys of multitudes. He heard elegies to springs on planets which no longer existed, green dances and firelight, wails and halloos, a harvest of conversations without number. Their assault was hardest to bear at nightfall in the open.

Nothing in the sadness at her death is too high a price to pay for the love we shared.

Jessica, have you ever stopped hating me?" the old woman asked. "I both love and hate you," Jessica said. "The hate—that's from pains I must never forget. The love—that's…." "Just the basic fact," the old woman said

We never completely escape the teachers of our childhood nor any of the patterns that formed us, do we?

this was a living moment, a time to discover regularities within perpetual change, an instant in which to feel that long movement from their Terranic past, all of it encapsulated in her memories.

He felt anew the hyperillumination with its high-relief imagery of time, sensed his future becoming memories

A time of love and a time of grief.

Memories rolled in his mind like the toothless muttering of old women. He remembered open waters and waves - days of grass instead of sand - dazed summers that had whipped past him like windstorms leaves. [...] I'm getting old, he thought. I've felt the cold hand of my mortality. And in what ? An old woman's greed.

Leto did not respond. His thoughts were lost in memories of night—the one just past and the millennial others which crowded his pasts—clouds and stars, the rains and the open blackness pocked with glittering flakes from a shredded cosmos, a universe of nights, extravagant with them as he had been with his heartbeats.

Parting with people is a sadness; a place is only a place.

Most believe that a satisfactory future requires a return to an idealized past, a past which never in fact existed." "And you with all of your memories know otherwise.