Quotes About Memories

Photographs objectify: they turn an event or a person into something that can be possessed.

I got through my childhood in a delirium of literary exaltations.

It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe—though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.

Coleccionar fotografías es coleccionar el mundo.

I had always held the notion that if two people love the same thing, they must love each other as well, but now the memories of that love had been tarnished by betrayal.

William uncorked the bottle and poured. 'Here's to the end of summer.' 'A beautiful summer,' Bernard added. 'I wish it would last forever,' Alice said. 'You wouldn't value it as much,' said Bernard. 'When joys are sparse, they sink into you more deeply.

No, a home is not where your heart is, it's where your effort is. It's where you cook and eat and sleep and take pains to decorate. It's where your memories are made and kept. It's the photos on the mantel, the artwork on the walls, the blankets that you snuggle under, the trees and flowers that you plant and care for.

What is home? Maybe it's not a place, but a moment in time. When I was safe. Secure. Cared for. Home. It's more than a point on a map. It's a sensation. A feeling of comfort—feet

Memories are like a series of locked doors, and once you manage to get one open, it leads to another, and then another and so on. The hard part is finding the key to that first lock and getting through it.

Aw, Gran." Annie had been fighting tears from the moment she'd boarded the train from New York. "Please don't leave me." "I won't," she said with a gentle smile. "Keep me in your heart, and you'll always know where to find me.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt once said, "America's greatest contribution to the world is the summer camp." Anyone

Seeing him amid the yellow leaves and berry-colored hips of the spent roses, and the fading hollyhocks gone to seed along the garden wall, filled her heart.

heart—life had grace notes. These were moments so sweet that they could be tucked like the smallest of keepsakes, never to be forgotten. She

Maybe you're not meant to remember the details. Just the feelings. Just the lessons. Just the love. pp274

Maybe that was why the term "old flame" had been invented. Somebody always got burned.

Gran was gone. She had passed quietly one night in springtime, and Annie's world shifted on its axis. The pain of this grief was like nothing she had ever felt before.

life had grace notes. These were moments so sweet that they could be tucked like the smallest of keepsakes, never to be forgotten. She

In this life, I had all I ever wanted. Losing Erik was a sadness that knit itself into my soul, but that sadness was balanced out by all that came after. The years with you, my little girl, and with your grandfather and all the people of Bella Vista. It has been a life of abundance, and I will always be grateful for that.

remember the love.

One time, they went to the city to stand on the bat bridge at dusk, watching in horrified wonder as thousands of bats swooped into the orange sky. Her mother used to set aside one entire Sunday every April to take a drive into the countryside to look at the bluebonnets. They both found the glorious fields of deep indigo flowers mesmerizing.

She made them honey butter fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits the way her mother had taught her, with White Lily flour and the butter shredded on a box grater. She served charred eggplant with cilantro pesto, polenta pasticciata, grilled corn, and fried dill pickles.

The moments of life are ephemeral and unpredictable. We must capture the best ones and keep them safe in our hearts.

You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place. —Miriam Adeney

remembered that feeling as if she'd tucked it into her backpack and carried it around with her everywhere she went. This was both a blessing and a burden. A blessing, because this love had shown her, ever so briefly, that heaven could be touched. A burden, because it was a reminder of something she had lost.