Quotes About Memories

So, I stood alone by the wall and watched the dance for a while. I would describe it to you, but I think it's the kind of thing where you have to be there or at least know the people. But then again, maybe you knew the same people when you went to high school dances, if you know what I mean.

Five minutes of a lifetime were truly spent and we felt young in a good way.

You only live through your kids once.

Live, love, laugh, leave a legacy.

ONCE, I KNEW A FINE SONG, —IT IS TRUE, BELIEVE ME,— IT WAS ALL OF BIRDS, AND I HELD THEM IN A BASKET; WHEN I OPENED THE WICKET, HEAVENS! THEY ALL FLEW AWAY. I CRIED, 'COME BACK, LITTLE THOUGHTS!' BUT THEY ONLY LAUGHED. THEY FLEW ON UNTIL THEY WERE AS SAND THROWN BETWEEN ME AND THE SKY.

I had come to take Roosevelt for granted," Webster wrote his parents, "like spring and Easter lilies, and now that he is gone, I feel a little lost.

In one of his last newsletters, Mike Ranney wrote: "In thinking back on the days of Easy Company, I'm treasuring my remark to a grandson who asked, 'Grandpa, were you a hero in the war?' " 'No,' I answered, 'but I served in a company of heroes.

she fondly remembered being caught laying out several thousand Quaaludes on the Persian rug in her bedroom in her grandmother's apartment: "She looked in and said, 'Clean this stuff up and vacuum that carpet.' I loved my grandmother.

Well I don't know about you, but when I recall childhood pain, I don't recall the pains of toothache, a thrashed backside, broken bones, stubbed toes, gashed knees or twisted ankles – I recall the pains of loneliness, boredom, abandonment, humiliation, rejection and fear. Those are the pains on which I might and, still sometimes do, dwell, and those pains, almost without exception, were inflicted on me by other children and by myself.

You can never hope to recapture the first fine careless rapture

Oh, to be in England, now that England's gone. This World Service, this little bakelite gateway into the world of Sidney Box, Charters and Caldecott, Mazawattee tea, Kennedy's Latin Primer and dark, glistening streets. An

But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.

High school isn't a very important place. When you're going you think it's a big deal, but when it's over nobody really thinks it was great unless they're beered up.

What can be done when you're eleven can often never be done again.

I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12 - Jesus, did you?

Anything with the power to make you laugh over thirty years later isn't a waste of time. I think something like that is very close to immortality.

So do we pass the ghosts that haunt us later in our lives; they sit undramatically by the roadside like poor beggars, and we see them only from the corners of our eyes, if we see them at all. The idea that they have been waiting there for us rarely crosses our minds. Yet they do wait, and when we have passed, they gather up their bundles of memory and fall in behind, treading in our footsteps and catching up, little by little.

I wouldn't have missed a single minute of it, Not for the whole world.

May be she'll learn something about what death really is, which is where the pain stops and the good memories begin. Not the end of life but the end of pain.

All I can say is what you already know: some days are treasure. Not many, but I think in almost every life there are a few. That was one of mine, and when I'm blue -- when life comes down on me and everything looks tawdry and cheap, the way Joyland Avenue did on a rainy day -- I go back to it, if only to remind myself that life isn't always a butcher's game. Sometimes the prizes are real. Sometimes they are precious.

A person's never too old for stories. Man and boy, girl and woman, we live for them. - Roland Deschain

the late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood ...

I hated high school. I don't trust anybody who looks back on the years from 14 to 18 with any enjoyment. If you liked being a teenager, there's something wrong with you.

Love leaves scars.