Quotes About Memories

What hurts the most Was being so close And having so much to say And watching you walk away And never knowing What could have been And not seeing that loving you Is what I was tryin' to do

Here comes goodbye, here comes the last time Here comes the start of every sleepless night The first of every tear Im gonna cry Here comes the pain, Here comes me wishing things had never changed And she was right here in my arms tonight, but here comes goodbye

I hope you never look back but you never forget, all the ones who loved you and the place you left.

What hurts the most, is being so close. And having so much to say, then watching you walk away...

here it was the whole world wrapped inside my arms And I let it all slip away

Time isn't just a fleeting thing. It never moves forward without engraving its mark upon the heart.

I remember the time an older man asked me when I was young, "Do you know what you are doing now?" I thought it was some kind of trick question. "Tell me," I said. "You are building your memories," he replied, "so make them good ones.

Do you know that books smell like nutmeg or some spice from a foreign land? I loved to smell them when I was a boy. Lord, there were a lot of lovely books once, before we let them go.

No person ever died that had a family.

Everything that happens before Death is what counts.

Looking back over a lifetime, you see that love was the answer to everything.

He had never liked October. Ever since he had first lay in the autumn leaves before his grandmother's house many years ago and heard the wind and saw the empty trees. It had made him cry, without a reason. And a little of that sadness returned each year to him. It always went away with spring. But, it was a little different tonight. There was a feeling of autumn coming to last a million years. There would be no spring. (The October Game)

Sunsets are loved because they vanish. Flowers are loved because they go. The dogs of the field and the cats of the kitchen are loved because soon they must depart. These are not the sole reasons, but at the heart of morning welcomes and afternoon laughters is the promise of farewell. In the gray muzzle of an old dog we see goodbye. In the tired face of an old friend we read long journeys beyond returns.

Dandelion wine. The words were summer on the tongue. The wine was summer caught and stoppered...sealed away for opening on a January day with snow falling fast and the sun unseen for weeks...

Is Death important? No. Everything that happens before death is what counts.

Hold summer in your hand, pour summer in a glass, a tiny glass of course, the smallest tingling sip, for children; change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in.

A computer does not smell ... if a book is new, it smells great. If a book is old, it smells even better… And it stays with you forever. But the computer doesn't do that for you. I'm sorry.

I was only twelve. But I knew how much I loved her. It was that love that comes before all significance of body and morals. It was that love that was no more bad than wind and sea and sand lying side by side forever. It was made of all the warm long days together at the beach, and the humming quiet days of droning education at the school. All the long Autumn days of the years past when I carried her books home from school.

and sleeping put an end to summer, 1928

All the things which had uses. All the mountains which had names. We'll give them new names, but the old names are there, somewhere in time... -Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles

It's not books you need, it's some of the things that once were in books.

Memories, as my father once said, are porcupines. To hell with them! Stay away from them! They make you unhappy. They ruin your work. They make you cry

He was part of us and when he died all the actions stopped dead, and there was no one to do them just the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. i've never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million actions the night he passed on. 

There were differences between memories and dreams. He had only dreams of things he had wanted to do, while Lespere had memories of things done and accomplished.