Quotes About Memories

There are too many ghosts walking this earth. They weigh heavy on the living.

Mijn vroegste herinneringen zijn allemaal gelukkige. Dat was voordat ik erachter kwam dat het mijn lot was om in een kast opgesloten te worden om daar te sterven.

The postmortem readjustment is one that many of us have had to make when our parents die. The parental door against which we have spent a lifetime pushing finally gives way, and we lurch forward, unprepared and disbelieving, into the rest of our lives.

Before the invention of photography, significant moments in the flow of our lives would be like rocks placed in a stream: impediments that demonstrated but didn't diminish the volume of the flow and around which accrued the debris of memory, rich in sight, smell, taste, and sound. No snapshot can do what the attractive mnemonic impediment can: when we outsource that work to the camera, our ability to remember is diminished and what memories we have are impoverished.

As ephemeral as our footprints were in the sand along the river, so also were those moments of childhood caught in the photographs. And so will be our family itself, our marriage, the children who enriched it, and the love that has carried us through so much. All this will be gone. What we hope will remain are these pictures telling our brief story, but what will last, beyond all of it, is the place.

I really do love Diana Ross I grew up listening to her records. I grew up in a little town in Mexico, so while we got the music, we never got the experience of watching her.

My mother's death supervened, and this was the greatest blow I had experienced in my life. I worshipped her... I could not resign myself to the loss of a being on whom I counted to make invisible the unavoidable blemishes of my soul.

My mother's death supervened, and this was the greatest blow I had experienced in my life. I worshipped her... I could not resign myself to the loss of a being on whom I counted to make invisible the unavoidable blemishes of my soul." ? Salvador Dalí, The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí

I don't know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.

One day I will forgive you; until then there are scabs everywhere that you have touched me.

There would be no sequel to the sadness

When you finally go back to your old home, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood.

When you finally go back to your old hometown, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood.

Winter rain on moss soundlessly recalls those happy bygone days

Summer grasses: all that remains of great soldiers' imperial dreams

Here were Winnie the Pooh, The Wind in the Willows, A Wrinkle in Time, The Outsiders, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Gone with the Wind, Wuthering Heights. And over here Anne of Green Gables, One Hundred Years of Solitude, Pride and Prejudice, Island of the Blue Dolphins.

souvenir tablecloths bearing images of the Acropolis,

There are times when I can't help thinking about the past. I know the present is the place to be. It's always been the place to be. I know I've been recommended by very wise people to stay in the present as much as possible, but the past sometimes presents itself. The past doesn't come as a whole. It always comes in parts.

Leaving my father behind—with all of his baggage—was like giving up an old teddy bear. You know it's just an object, incapable of comforting you with its tattered fur and missing button eye, but it's something you cling to, even though you know it can't give anything back.

All stories are ghost stories," I

I visit him a few times downtown while he paints. We talk about how he's going to Spain for the fall semester and he shows me a painting he did and points to this one part, a bridge, and tells me he thought of me when he painted it. It is so sad how knowing something so small can make me so happy.

The things we did last summer I'll remember all winter long.

There are certain romances that belong in certain cities, in a certain atmosphere, in a certain time.

Both expectations and memories are more than mere images founded on previous experience.