Quotes About Memories

Life is but a story told at one's funeral

One of the reasons veteran parents don't focus on the hardness of having babies is that "hard" is not the whole story. It's not even the major part. The time you will actually spend with your kids is breathtakingly short. They will change very quickly. Eventually, your child will find a sleep schedule, turn to you for comfort, and learn from you both what to do and what not to do.

We don't always know when or why, but these memories come back to us, reminders of what we did and who we were in another time.

Oh my grief, I've lost him surely. I've lost the only Playboy of the Western World.

They're all gone now, and there isn't anything more the sea can do to me.

Time, the subtle thief of youth

We are touched by magic wands. For just a fraction of our day life is perfect, and we are absolutely happy and in harmony with the earth. The feeling passes much too quickly. But the memory – and the anticipation of other miracles – sustains us in the battle indefinitely.

And when the work of grieving is done, The wound of loss will heal And you will have learned To wean your eyes From that gap in the air And be able to enter the hearth In your soul where your loved one Has awaited your return All the time.

Animals" Have you forgotten what we were like then when we were still first rate when the day came fat with an apple in its mouth it's no use worrying about Time but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves and turned a few sharp corners the whole pasture looked like our meal we didn't need speedometers we could manage cocktails out of ice and water I wouldn't want to be faster or greener than now if you were with me O you were the best of my days.

You will leave all your material wealth behind, but a wealth of knowledge goes with you.

Neil made a face of supreme disgust, and I felt anger mushrooming inside of me. "Things like that—which people cling to as memories," he said, "it's those things that keep men from realizing their True Nature.

And the next moment the fierce wind comes screaming, whirling the needle-pointed dust, stifling all hope. And you know then that what has not happened will never happen. That hope is an end within itself. And the fierce wind is an echo of angry childhood and of a very scared boy looking out the window—remembering my dead dog outside by the wounded house as the gray Texas dust gradually covered her up—and thinking: It isnt fair! Why cant dogs go to Heaven?

Weatherborne folk-memories whistle down chimneys, fell fences, tear tiles from roofs, and bang at back doors. The wild is out there, just outside. We know, just as all of our ancestors knew, the power and the might of nature beyond the confines of our man-made world.

For as much as I hate the cemetery, I've been grateful it's here, too. I miss my wife. It's easier to miss her at a cemetery, where she's never been anything but dead, than to miss her in all the places where she was alive.

What is it like when you lose someone you love?" Jane asked. "You die, too. And you wait around for your body to catch up.

Your parents are never gone from you. You'll see that someday, hopefully a very long time from now.

I'm thinking I don't know what I'd possibly write about in a journal," I told him, even though I knew what he intended. But I'd spent so much time in other windowless rooms, recounting the details of that night at the church for a white-haired detective and a haggard-looking assistant district attorney, that I felt no desire to do it again.

Old friends are best. King James used to call for his old shoes; they were easiest for his feet.

Old friends are best.

Reminders are for those who cannot remember. Memories are for those who want to remember.

At my age a man discovers regret, Senhor Mouse. I pursued blood instead of beauty. My memories are all of killing. I've forgotten the rest. Sometimes I cannot sleep.

Leave me now as one leaves a corpse...with regret, and memories, but without a second look.

She had never been a gloomy person. There had been some good times aboard Ringmaster, but little out-and-out fun.

How heavy is that day in the mountains when you built a campfire and saw a shooting star? What is the mass of yesterday? How fast is love?