Quotes About Memories

you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood.

These relics have a history then?' 'So much so that they are history.

There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood.

You know what I love about this place? (Joe) I hope it's not the décor. (Steele)

In every garden grows one single rose so perfect that once the frost takes it, no other can grow there again. My rose is and will ever be my Edilyn. And I shall never stop mourning her. Illarion's Tattoo

En nuestro pasado reside nuestro futuro. Nuestras decisiones y nuestros actos condicionan ese futuro y nos traen alegría o la desgracia, Hagan lo que hagan, esfuércense por conseguir sus metas. Tal vez nunca logren su objetivo, incluso puede que este sea un espejismo, pero a lo largo del camino encontrarán gente que se convertirá en piezas importantes de sus vidas y crearán recuerdos que les ayudarán a seguir adelante en los tiempos difíciles. (Tory)

Rain The rain keeps falling, Even in my dreams. The skull leaks badly. There's a constant dripping Down the back. The rain, which no one Remembers starting, Keeps falling, Even on the finest days.

Everyone tells stories around here. Every place, every person has a ring of stories around them, a halo almost. People have told me tales ever since I was a tiny girl squatting in the front dooryard, in mud-caked overalls, digging for doodlebugs. They have talked to me, and talked to me. some I've forgotten, but most I remember. And so my memory goes back before my birth

Well," her husband said, "seems he don't agree." Years—many years—later when he took his granddaughter for a picnic in the cemetery with a Negro gardener or two along to clean up, William Howland talked about his wife Lorena. "There was such a light to her," he said, "all over her. I used to think

I would have to find something else to bury here and I wished it could be Charles.

Tell me something that only I will ever know, was perhaps what she wanted to ask him, or, What will you remember me by? - or even, Nothing of the least importance has ever belonged to me; can you help?

Our house is old, and noisy, and full. when we moved into it we had two children and about five thousand books; I expect that when we finally overflow and move out again we will have perhaps twenty children and easily half a million books; we also own assorted beds and tables and chairs and rocking horses and lamps and doll dresses and ship models and paint brushes and literally thousands of socks.

Hill House has an impressive list of tragedies connected with it, but then, most old houses have. People have to live and die somewhere, after all, and a house can hardly stand for eighty years without seeing some of its inhabitants die within its walls.

It was the first genuinely shining day of summer, a time of year which brought Eleanor always to aching memories of her early childhood, when it seemed to be summer all the time; she could not remember a winter before father's death on a cold wet day.

Nothing is ever really wasted, she believed sensibly, even one's childhood, and then each year, one summer morning, the warm wind would come down the city street where she walked and she would be touched with the little cold thought: I have let more time go by.

When I was a child, Theodora said lazily, '--many years ago,' Doctor, as you put it so tactfully--I was whipped for throwing a brick through a greenhouse roof. I remember I thought about if for a long time, remembering the whipping but remembering also the lovely crash, and after thinking about it very seriously I went out and did it again.

I remember coming home from school with friends who were startled at the percussive sound of my parents' typewriters both going at once, pounding away in different rooms.

Constance stirred, and the leaves rustled. The way you did before? she asked. It had never been spoken of between us, not once in six years. Yes, I said after a minute, the way I did before.

Tell me something that only I will ever know, was perhaps what she wanted to ask him, or, What will you give me to remember you by? - or, even, Nothing of the least importance has ever belonged to me; can you help?

What are you looking for back there?" said Mama. "Yesterday's snow?

My friend Mendl and I once ate three haht dawgz apiece and could have polished off a few more if we had the cash …but that's not what I wanted to tell you.

In mourning, I realized the most painful place on earth was sometimes the church you attended with the person you loved, the person now gone.

Sing me no songs of daylight, For the sun is the enemy of lovers Sing instead of shadows and darkness, And memories of midnight

The voices would not stop. They were a torment, Her past became a kaleidoscope of shifting images that kept racing through her mind.