Quotes About Memories

Don't wait until people are dead to give them flowers.

Did the chronicles of their lives collectively

I'm not going to have a better day, a more magical moment, than the first time I heard my daughter giggle.

Memories haunted the Ghostwood, brittle as the twigs that splintered like tiny bones under Mark's boots. Sifting through drooping cedar boughs, the old wind muttered of things that waited in darkness without hope. To every question the Ghostwood had but one answer, made from sorrow, and loneliness, and time.

For long after guilty memories fade, the urge for penance lingers: strong and blind as the will to drink rain and grope for sunlight.

we can gain experience from the past, but we cant relive it. But we can hope for the future, Its always along side us, on the inside of us looking out. The past should not be allowed to evaporate but should exist only in memories.

My dad was diagnosed with cancer, so we ended up burying him a year to the day that he was diagnosed.

Do you know the grief of it? I hope not. The grief that does not age, that does not go away with time, like most griefs and human matters. That is the grief that is always there, swinging a little in a derelict house, my father, my father. I cry out for him.

I must admit there are 'memories' in my head that are curious even to me.

book I still possess in all the flotsam and ruckus of my life

Now all my mother's things are dispersed also, and only this ladle has come from that time, passing through two or three sets of women's hands. It scoops the bath water well enough, the little boy's back glistens at me, with its slender spine, his skin as soft as gloves. I think of my grandmother, Bridget Dunne, and him, the past and the present. Her long set of bones lie in against the church in Kiltegan yard, his fidget below me.

Because a lone person takes great comfort from her people, in the watches of the night, even the memory of them.

They had a house there below Kelsha, one of the old mud-walled jobs, that has long disappeared back into its garden of fuchsia and orange lilies that the mother herself had planted in her first days of marriage, as women do in their gardens, all full of hope.

Terrible, dreepy, dark February weather I remember, and the worst, most frightened days of my life.

His memories were like pieces of furniture in an empty house whose previous owner had shrouded them in dust sheets. Until yesterday he'd tried to tear the dust sheets off. Today he was afraid they might be concealing some terrible truth

Maybe the ultimate wound is the one that makes you miss the war you got it in.

I think things like food, the food of the south is sort of the common tie that binds us all, Black and White, the sense memories. It's a very particular part of the country.

Sleepless nights, infinite random thoughts, Remembering those moments, he had much to say, an urge to talk to someone, to be cared, to be loved, to be understood !! She was gone by now, And he was lost !! There it was, A white paper note, a pen, and the dark clouds forcing him to spill out !! Yes Words did most of talking, the unsaid words took the paper form .. Strange it was, the way Love was lost somewhere in the Library stacks !!

There are some songs in your playlist which u don't want to listen and don't want to delete either ....same is the case with some relationships...you want to keep them no matter what...even if you know that they are there for namesake...

På bron fanns inte en människa, som kunde höra dem. Det var deras hemlands blåa kullar, älvens gråa vatten och de bugande träden som de sjöng till. De skulle aldrig se dem mer, och ur strupar, som tillsnördes av gråt, trängde avskedssången.

Nothing on earth can make up for the loss of one who has loved you.

That's what time was like, along with the things occupying it, that it made the feelings connected to any memory seem worthless.

Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember.

The comfort of having a friend may be taken away, but not that of having had one.