Quotes About Memories

There was a time in my life when I was going in and out of houses that were extraordinarily different - from a working-class terrace in Northampton to the homes of friends who were really very wealthy. It was quite an odd position to be in, I realise looking back, and quite a nice one.

Some of the shoes I have are from movies - I have my workman's boots from 'While You Were Sleeping' - while others are shoes I've had forever.

Memories of our lives, of our works and our deeds will continue in others.

Works of art often last forever, or nearly so. But exhibitions themselves, especially gallery exhibitions, are like flowers; they bloom and then they die, then exist only as memories, or pressed in magazines and books.

Many great works of art, poetry, and music are inspired by astral memories. The desire to do noble, beautiful things here on Earth is also often a carryover of astral experiences between a person's earth lives.

I was taught to whistle as a little girl by an undertaker. I used to sit in his workshop, watching him planing wood for the coffins, and he used to whistle all the time - and eventually I started whistling, too. I can whistle anything, particularly trumpet tunes from Classic FM.

There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance.

I can still remember watching Italy win the 1982 World Cup. I was just an eight-year-old kid in Naples, my hometown, watching the games with a bunch of people in the houses of relatives and friends. I can recall that when Italy scored, we would shout and hug, even though we did not all know each other.

When I am an old man, I will tell my grandchildren bedtime stories about when I won the Champions League, hopefully when I won the World Cup, but most of all, I will tell them that their grandfather used to play with Lionel Messi.

To win the World Cup in our colours was beyond my dreams and something I will never, ever forget.

I remember watching David Beckham scoring that free-kick at Old Trafford to take England to a World Cup. Things like that stick with you. I was at Southsea, waiting to board a hovercraft for the Isle of Wight. We ended up missing it because we were more interested in watching the big screen.

My first-ever game was at the 1966 World Cup. The old man was a bricklayer's labourer, on a job in the north-east of England. One weekend the rest of the family went down to see him and he took me off to Ayresome Park, Middlesbrough for the Soviet Union versus North Korea.

The truth is that I don't have a favourite goal. I remember important goals more than I do favourite goals, like goals in the Champions League where I had the opportunity to have scored in both finals I have played in. Finals in the World Cup or Copa del Rey are the ones that have stayed with me for longer or that I remember more.

When you have lived through something as magical as the 2014 World Cup final, you want to relive that experience as many times as possible.

You know I was a ball boy at the Italy v. Argentina semi-final in Naples in 1990 and playing in a World Cup final is something every child dreams about.

I've scored many goals that I've liked, but I think the best memory I have is the one against Korea in the 2010 World Cup.

I have a trophy room in my home and at the center is the replica of the World Cup.

Football became my life at five or six. The earliest memory I have is of playing in my first boots, a pair of black and white Alan Balls. It was 1970, four years after the World Cup, and I scored three goals at school.

My first memory of the national team is the 1982 World Cup. I remember those days at our home or at my uncle's house, with all the family and those long dinners watching the matches. But I also remember that, during the games, I went outside or onto the balcony to play.

I remember, the 1998 World Cup when we were Yugoslavia, I had the sticker albums of all the players, and I still remember that squad and who was playing.

I experienced great sadness with our elimination from the 1990 World Cup, with many penalties. I still have that feeling of injustice in me.

Belgium's 1986 team is like the Christmas movie that they bring out every single year. That World Cup is something we get to see and hear about all the time. It is part of our general education in Belgium.

My father who passed away told me that his dream is to watch me playing at a World Cup and I want to make my dad proud.

I can remember lacing up my boots ahead of my first cap against Japan in the 1995 World Cup in South Africa. I remember the changing room, the smell of the place, every last detail of how I warmed up, walking out onto the pitch, thinking how proud my parents would be. I was doing all I ever wanted to do.