Quotes About Memories

They say that's what happens as you get older. You think about the things of your youth.

My childhood had been a lockdown.

She pictured a dandelion gone by, the white, almost airless pieces of her family scattered so far.

This must be the way most of us maneuver through the world, half knowing, half not, visited by memories that can't possibly be true. But when I see others walking with confidence down the sidewalk, as though they are free completely from terror, I realize I don't know how others are. So much of life seems speculation.

He had died on his bed, the same bed that my father had died on many years earlier.

Pete's death. It felt to me as though my entire childhood had died. You might think—I would have thought—that I wanted every part of my childhood gone. But I did

I had often thought before: that there had been a last time—when they were little—that I had picked up the girls. This had often broken my heart, to realize that you never know the last time you pick up a child. Maybe you say "Oh, honey, you're getting too big to be picked up" or something like that. But then you never pick them up again.

Il silenzio, là dove avevano riecheggiato per tanti anni il suono della voce di Pam, le sue chiacchiere, le risate, le opinioni taglienti, gli improvvisi scoppi di pianto. L'assenza di tutto questo, il silenzio di una doccia che non scorreva, di cassetti che non si aprivano, perfino il silenzio di se stesso, che quando rientrava in casa non parlava, non raccontava a nessuno la sua giornata. Quel silenzio quasi lo uccideva.

And thinking of this now made me think of something I had often thought before: that there had been a last time - when they were little - that I had picked up the girls. This had often broken my heart, to realize that you never know the last time you pick up a child. Maybe you say "Oh honey, you're getting too big to be picked up" or something like that. But then you never pick them up again.

This must be the way most of us maneuver through the world, half knowing, half not, visited by memories that can't possibly be true. But when I see others walking with confidence down the sidewalk, as though they are free completely from terror, I realize I don't know how others are.

My whole childhood was a lockdown. I never saw anyone or went anywhere.

But there is this: Both with the discovery of David's illness, and then again with his death, it was William I called first. I think—but I don't remember—that I must have said something like "Oh William, help me." Because he did. He got my husband to a different doctor—a better one, I do believe—although there was nothing any doctor could do at that point. And then, with the death, William helped me again.

don't you make pancakes?" It was a family custom to have pancakes

Who, who, does not have their basket of trips? It

cuando escribes una novela, puedes reescribirla, pero cuando vives con alguien veinte años, ésa es la novela, y no puedes volver a escribir esa novela con nadie.

But it's a sad story, Lucy. Both Pam and Jim are in New York and they always will be, and I will always be here in Maine." We sat in silence while I absorbed this. Oh, he broke my heart!

deprivations never leave us.

And as time went by, the idea of seeing the girls that way again was almost as bad as not seeing them at all.

Een mens wordt nu eenmaal meer bepaald door de liefde die hem is onthouden, dan door de liefde die hij kreeg.

Zolang wij onze dierbaren om ons heen hebben, houden wij van ze om alles wat ze uitzonderlijk maakt, maar zijn ze weg dan missen wij vooral hun dagelijks doen.

I may think of you softly from time to time. But I'll cut off my hand before I ever reach for you again.

He would say, "How funny it will all seem, all you've gone through, when I'm not here anymore, when you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes, because I will have to go away some day, far away..." And in that instant I could feel myself with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death.

the gnashing of teeth, the hissing of fire, the reeking sighs abate. All filthy memories fade out. My last regrets scamper off. . . . A spiritual battle is as brutal as a battle of men.

Ti manca ancora tua moglie?" chiese la vicepreside in ascensore. "Sì. Tyyne è morta di tumore tre anni fa. Il primo anno è stato il più difficile. Ho preso anche un cane, ma un cane non sostituisce una moglie, per quanto di razza.