Quotes About Memories

But when fall comes, kicking summer out on it's 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.

I loved you, Jake.

What you love, you must love all the harder because someday it will be gone.

Who can remember the pangs and sweetness of those early years? We remember our first real love no more clearly than the illusions that caused us to rave during a high fever.

Some nightmares never completely ended.

The way those old memories kept bubbling to the surface in the present tense was disturbing. It was as if the past had never died; as if on some level of time's great tower, everything was still happening.

I can sense those memories . . . waiting to be born. They're like clouds filled with rain. Only this rain would be very dirty. The plants that grew after a rain like that would be monsters.

Some memories battened onto a person's mind like evil leeches, and certain words could bring them instantly back to squirming, feverish life.

I think houses live their own lives along a time-stream that's different from the ones upon which their owners float, one that's slower. In a house, especially an old one, the past is closer.

Also, I suppose I wanted to say goodbye to someone, and have someone say goodbye to me. The goodbyes we speak and the goodbyes we hear are the goodbyes that tell us we're still alive, after all.

Like all sweet dreams, it will be brief... but brevity makes sweetness, doesn't it? Yes, I think so. Because when the time is gone, you can never get it back.

The way those old memories kept bubbling to the surface in the present tense was disturbing. It was as if the past had never died; as if on some level of time's great tower, everything was still happening.

And of our memories, of course. They have voices, too. Ask anyone who has ever lost a limb or a child or a long-cherished dream. Ask anyone who blames himself for a bad decision, usually made in a raw instant (an instant that is most commonly red). Our memories have voices, too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark.

He will hear this voice in uneasy dreams for the rest of his life, never quite remembering what he has dreamed, only knowing that the dreams leave him feeling ill somehow—walking restlessly, straightening pictures in loveless rooms, listening to the call to muzzein in alien town squares.

Enjoy every moment as much as you can because you never know when those memories will show their back to you.

Memories are the precious moments wrapped in delicate ribbon. The ones kept dear are beautifully woven around our heart, the ones that don't hold the beauty of the ribbon, unties itself naturally.

There are endearing people who come into our lives and leave a soul print.

Its never the miles of traveling that counts, its what you have done along the way

As I look back on the time I've spent with him, loving him, learning him, I'm grateful for the moments. Because in the end, it's the moments that make life worth living...

Some commit slow suicide with the sweet poison of their memories.

Memories extend our lives backward through time, making them feel longer.

Happiness is like good health: when you have it, you don't notice it. But as the years go by, oh, the memories, the memories of happiness past!

So - people a thousand years from now...This is the way we were: in our growing up and in our marrying and in our living and in our dying.

Don't let the day go by without a handful of fun, for only those we'll be memorable and even intensified through time