Quotes About Memories

Line by line, moment by moment, special times are etched into our memories in the permanent ink of everlasting love in our relationships.

Etta and Mattie went way back, a singular term that claimed co-knowledge of all the important events in their lives and almost all of the unimportant ones.

She studied the fine lines and loops, commas and periods that had come between them, and they etched themselves into her mind.

I used to call my dad. The surge of emotion is so raw that it's all I can do to hold back tears. One look at him and I'm six years old again, and he's hugging me and stroking my hair the way he did when I was upset. I was living a lie back then, but at least I was happy.

As I now move, graciously, I hope, towards the door marked Exit, it occurs to me that the only thing I ever really liked to do was go to the movies.

But then what are memories but shadows of objects gone to dust? Or

Whenever I see her, we laugh enough to last for the month. She's my best friend, and someday when we're old enough I'm going to talk her into staying here forever.

Minli suddenly thought of Ma and Ba. A wave of longing washed through her and a dryness caught in her throat that the tea could not moisten. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon.

Remember what the dormouse said

There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in...We should be thankful we cannot see the horrors and degradations lying around our childhood, in cupboards and bookshelves, everywhere.

You do not always say goodbye to those you love beside a deathbed, in an atmosphere of leisure and incense.

The pouches under his eyes were like purses that contained the smuggled memories of a disappointing life.

I remember I dreamed a lot of Sarah in those obscure days or weeks. Sometimes I would wake with a sense of pain, sometimes with pleasure. If a woman is in one's thoughts all day, one should not have to dream of her at night.

Rooms don't change, ornaments stand where you place them: only the heart decays.

As one grows old I think one becomes more attached to family things- to houses and graves.

New landscapes, new customs. The accumulation of memories. A long life is not a question of years. A man without memories might reach the age of a hundred and feel that his life had been a very brief one.

Poverty is apt to strike suddenly like influenza, it is well to have a few memories of extravagance in store for bad times.

In the moment of shock there is little pain; pain began about three a.m., when I began to plan the life I had still somehow to live and to remember memories in order somehow to eliminate them. Happy memories are the worst, and I tried to remember the unhappy. I was practiced. I had lived all this before. I knew I could do what was necessary, but I was so much older—I felt I had little energy left to reconstruct.

Our heroes are simple: they are brave, they tell the truth, they are good swordsmen and they are never in the long run really defeated. That is why no later books satisfy us like those which were read to us in childhood - for those promised a world of great simplicity of which we knew the rules, but the later books are complicated and contradictory with experience; they are formed out of our own disappointing memories.

and sitting there, my fingers on the quiet instrument, with something to look forward to. I thought to myself: I remember. This is what hope feels like.

Think how complicated life would be if I had kept in touch with all the men I have known intimately. Some died, some I left, a few have left me. If they were all with me now we would have to take over a whole wing of the Royal Albion. I

Ante mí desfilaban imágenes de praderas que se extendían hasta el agua, de viejos castillos sobre colinas surcadas de viñedos y chicas en bicicleta. Todo parecía limpio, ordenado, seguro, como había sido mi propia vida antes del funeral de mi madre. Recordé mi jardín. Echaba de menos mis dalias.

He travelled from one woman to another, Henry, all through his life. That comes to much the same thing. New landscapes, new customs. The accumulation of memories. A long life is not a question of years. A man without memories might reach the age of a hundred and feel that his life had been a very brief one.

Recordé el reloj con pulsera de oro de la señorita Keene, minúsculo como el de una muñeca, regalo de sir Keene por sus veintiún años. En su pequeña esfera contenía todas las cifras de las horas, como si todas ellas tuviesen la misma importancia y un deber especial que cumplir.