Quotes About Memories

I let his rose wither in a vase on my desk, a vase painfully empty of flowers since the long-ago time when, on my birthday, Mario would give me a cattleya, in imitation of Swann. In the evening the flower was already black and bent on its stem. I threw it in the trash.

Non ho nostalgia della nostra infanzia, è piena di violenza. Ci succedeva di tutto, in casa e fuori, ma non ricordo di aver mai pensato che la vita che c'era capitata fosse particolarmente brutta. La vita era così è basta, crescevamo con l'obbligo di renderla difficile agli altri prima che gli altri la rendessero difficile a noi.

Lila appeared in my life in first grade and immediately impressed me because she was very bad.

And they thought that what had happened before was past and, in order to live quietly, they placed a stone on top of it, and so, without knowing it, they continued it, they were immersed in the things of before, and we kept them inside us, too.

Un maschio, a parte i momenti pazzi in cui lo ami e ti entra dentro, resta sempre fuori. Perciò, dopo, quando non lo ami più, ti dà fastidio anche solo pensare che una volta l'hai voluto. Io sono piaciuta a lui, lui è piaciuto a me, fine. A me succede molte volte al giorno che qualcuno mi piaccia. A te no? Dura un poco, poi passa. Solo il bambino resta, è una parte di te; il padre invece era un estraneo e torna un estraneo.

As for the minor characters, it seemed natural for each of them to have his good or bad moment in the life of the protagonists and then slip into the background, just as when we think back on our existence and, of the many people who entered the flow of our lives, remember almost nothing.

Ölülerin, televizyon, radyo, mikser gibi bozulmuÅŸ nesneler gibi olduklar?n? ve en iyisinin onlar?n iÅŸler halini hat?rlamak olduÄŸunu, kabul edilebilir tek mezarl???n an?lar olduÄŸunu anlatt???n? aktard?m.

Com'era friabile il passato, franava di continuo, le veniva addosso.

Mas foi sobretudo naquelas horas lentas que me senti realmente sua filha preferida. Quando me abraçava antes de eu ir embora, parecia querer deslizar para dentro de mim e ficar ali, assim como outrora habitei dentro dela.

I feel no nostalgia for our childhood: it was full of violence.

L'infanzia è una fabbrica di menzogne che durano all'imperfetto

Nu am nostalgia copilariei noastre, e plina de violenta. Ni se intamplau de toate, in casa si in afara ei, in fiecare zi, dar nu-mi amintesc sa fi crezut vreodata ca viata care ni se oferise era foarte urata. Viata era asa fi gata , cresteam cu obligatia de a le-o face dificila celorlalti inainte ca ei sa ne-o faca dificila noua.

I feel no nostalgia for our childhood: it was full of violence. Every sort of thing happened, at home and outside, every day, but I don't recall having ever thought that the life we had there was particularly bad. Life was like that, that's all, we grew up with the duty to make it difficult for others before they made it difficult for us.

Nunca hemos llorado tanto como en esos días, sí, nosotras las mujeres. Como si quisiéramos lavar a fuerza de lágrimas todas las imágenes, todos los muros, todas las aristas, todas las bancas de piedra manchadas de sangre de Tlatelolco, todas las huellas de los cuerpos desangrándose en los rincones... Pero es mentira que las imágenes se lavan a fuerza de lágrimas. Allí siguen en la memoria. • Perla Vérez de Aguilera, madre de familia

Nunca aclaré nada. Esas son cosas de uno, de adentro, como los recuerdos. Los recuerdos no son de nadie. Nomas de uno. O como los años que nomas a uno le hacen.

When I woke up in the morning, there was a second or two when I felt light and free, unaware of any reason to feel upset. Then all my knowledge and memories rushed back and a weight descended on my sternum and the creaking started behind my eyes.

It can be really exasperating to look back at your past. What's the matter with you? I want to ask her, my younger self, shaking her shoulder. If I did that, she would probably cry. Maybe I would cry, too. It would be like one of those Marguerite Duras books I tried to read in Svetlana's aunt's apartment. Elle pleure. Il pleure. Ils pleurent, tous les deux.

You're always sad when you leave Rome," he said at some point. "You're always depressed until you go back.

Riley made me a tape of her Fiona Apple album.

It can be really exasperating to look back at your past. What's the matter with you? I want to ask her, my younger self, shaking her shoulder. If I did that, she would probably cry. Maybe I would cry, too. It would be like one of those Marguerite Duras books I tried to read in Svetlana's aunt's apartment. Elle pleure. Il pleure. Ils pleurent, tous les deux.

It can be really exasperating to look back at your past. What's the matter with you? I want to ask her, my younger self, shaking her shoulder. If I did that, she would probably cry. Maybe I would cry too. It would be like one of those Marguerite Duras books I tried to read in Svetlana's aunt's apartment.

She stared at me, like day stares at an hourglass and night, the sand trickling through time; the sea disappearing to eyes in the dark. But I hear her waves coming in, as she whispers one last chance goodbye.

The psyche exists (quite happily, one might add) on an entirely different plane than the body: whereas the body is inextricably bound to time, degrading day-by-day on its 85-year death trek, the psyche is, indeed, ageless, blending its memories into a single unit. It simply collects information—and "maturing" is really nothing more than a judgement of the quality of that information.

We cannot escape the longing, no matter what life we choose. We're either longing for people, places or times gone by, which are essentially the same things: memories. And, whether or not we travel, the older we get, the more memories we collect. Nostalgia is simply the result of aging and liking the life you've lived. Be happy you can feel it—it's a good sign.