Quotes About Memories

She holds on to a rung of the ladder while I tread water a foot or so in front of her. After a few moments, my eyes have adjusted to that I can look into hers. I flash back to Horry and Wendy, looking at each other in this exact spot a few hours ago, this haunted pool that seems to pull dead and buried love to its surface.

You never know when it will be the last time you'll see your father, or kiss your wife, or play with your little brother, but there's always a last time. If you could remember every last time, you'd never stop grieving.

Forgiveness is a comfort, but it doesn't bring back what you lost

It was one of those playful arguments that we would carry with us unresolved into old age.

Fairy tales. That was all she could remember about fairies, and as she tried desperately to recall the ones she'd heard or read, she realized she knew of few with fairies in them. And the two before her were nothing like Rumpelstiltskin or Cinderella's fairy godmother. Elegant Oberon and Titiana, silly Puck--Shakespeare was no help, either. These two, with their changing shapes and their offhand cruelties, had their roots in horror movies.

I have had lots of friends who've been affected by Aids and a very good friend of mine, Oscar Moore, died of Aids and I was with him in his last year quite a bit. And of course he was a man living in a very rich culture with a wealthy family who was able to afford health care.

Se acordará toda su vida de los sacos de plástico gris, precintados, en los que habían metido a los niños: horripilaba verlos.

I can put my legs behind my head and sing 'Happy Birthday.' Because that's something that me and my friends used to do when we were in gymnastics class as kids, and I can still do it. I was doing it since I was 8 and 9. They used to call me Gumby. Very bendy.

A infância é uma batalha perdida.

No todo el mundo sabe que a Veracruz y a sus playas lejanas no pienso en la vida nunca volver. Fui feliz allí, el mes pasado, en noche de luna llena, en Los Portales, ni antes ni después de esa noche, en el último mes de julio de mi juventud. Pero no pienso en la vida nunca volver, pues sé muy bien que la nostalgia de un lugar sólo enriquece mientras se conserva como nostalgia, pero su recuperación significa la murte.

Colonial battles were never remembered unless a Custer was killed or a Gordon besieged. Millions of people may die, but the memories are of Custer and Gordon.

We had a wonderful and good life. . . . For us it was a normal life," concludes Winfried Schiller about his youth in the Upper Silesian city of Beuthen during the Third Reich.

Everyone carries his parents around inside of him.

Cowboy: 'Come and see the barn.' Visitor: 'I've loved barns ever since I was a little girl.

On Memorial Day, I don't want to only remember the combatants. There were also those who came out of the trenches as writers and poets, who started preaching peace, men and women who have made this world a kinder place to live.

I want to grab your hand, allow you to pull me through, to take us wherever you want to go, fill my calendar with your smile and laugh the way we used to

Friends are always worth the moments of joy you share, even if they don't last.

I didn't understand at all that the memories accumulated during years of happiness could weigh enough to balance so large a loss, or that the mind will sometimes find a way to free the heart from pain.

The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations,Silk stockings thrown aside, dance invitations:Oh how the ghost of you clings!These foolish thingsRemind me of you.

There is something in the scene reminiscent of Pip's return to old Joe at the forge in Dickens's Great Expectations. So much is felt but unspoken in that moment when Joe beholds the little boy he once knew and then, in his humble rural accent, says, "You're a gentleman now, Pip.

Growing up, birthdays weren't the best of times.

What can you say about a twenty-five year old girl who died? That she was beautiful and brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. The Beatles. And me.

My parents moved to American Samoa when I was three or four years old. My dad was principal of a high school there. It was idyllic for a kid. I had a whole island for a backyard. I lived there until I was eight years old and we moved to Santa Barbara.

After all, sisters didn't die, did they?