Quotes About Memories

Goodbye, darling, would I could leave you with something, some little thing...' 'You leave me with all I'll ever need,' she said softly. There was resignation in her voice. 'You leave me with some hours that other women must make up or read about in stories.

It was not to relive the old pain that she had returned, it was to know again, for a little while, the joy that had gone before.

Everyone today has a story; the world's an archive.

He thought of the Englishman at the bar in the lobby again. That's what had brought it all back — the Englishman remarking to the bartender that he'd just come from New Orleans, and that certainly was a haunted city.

A finely carved Black Forest cuckoo clock hung just to the right of the hutch. Phil would love that, Reuben thought. Phil had once collected cuckoo clocks, and their constant chiming and tweeting and cooing had driven everybody at home a little nuts.

My Beloved. It made her think of beautiful music, of elegant gentleman in old movies she saw on late night television. Of voices from another time, soft and distinct, the very words like kisses.

But the world was a tomb to me, a graveyard of broken statues, and each of those statues resembled her face.

One thing we can give each other is our history.

He didn't have to make the flowers fall," I said. "I taught him not to hurt things that were pretty. I taught him that when we were small.

I can see all the stories of my life. I can pick and choose from among them.

The memories inside him tormented him like a cancer, yet he could not see them and know them for what they were.

Geliebten Lakaien are once again here with us. Lisa, Heddy, Henrietta, Peter, and Jean Pierre

Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of their beauty or splendor. Rather they remain hard as gems.

You are like an adult who, looking back on his childhood, realizes that he never appreciated it. You cannot, as a man, go back to the nursery and play with your toys, asking for the love and care

Give me the boy I was, give me the finest green satin and ruff upon ruff of fancy lace, give me stockings and braided boots, and let my hair be clean and shining.

I heard a sinister laughter, rumbling like low thunder over the moist soft sounds of their anguish and suffering. I heard a long, dry cruel laugh. I closed my eyes. I went deep deep inside myself. I lay in the dirt of the Monastery of the Caves, a wraith of myself, tumbled back into the softest and most terrible memories.

The dead are so close they can hear us, she thought. "Ah, but you see," said the tall white-haired Ryan, as if he'd read her mind, "in New Orleans, we never really leave them out.

Be careful who you love. They'll be part of you always. Even after the love is long dead, the fuckers'll be part of you.

winter days, but distantly. Like very old ghosts.

Sometimes—not very often, in any life—there come days so perfect and seamless and golden that you remember them always. Almost everyone has them, though some, I think, have more than others. It just isn't given to everyone to simply love a day for its own sake. But they are the very coin of memory, and you can pull them out over and over again and fondle them, and spend them, and they are never depleted.

But it has occurred to me, on occasion, that our memories of our loved ones might not be the point. Maybe the point is their memories—all that they take away with them.

Now she settled into the dailiness of grief—not that first piercing stab but the steady, persistent ache of it, the absence that feels like a presence.

I liked to dwell on these shortcomings now. It wasn't only that I was wondering why they had ever annoyed me. I was hoping they would annoy me still, so that I could stop missing her.

The thing about old girlfriends, Micah reflected, is that each one subtracts something from you. You say goodbye to your first great romance and move on to the next, but you find you have less to give to the next. A little chip of you has gone missing; you're not quite so wholly there in the new relationship.