Quotes About Memories

Every divorce is a unique tragedy because every divorce brings an end to a unique civilization—one built on thousands of shared experiences, memories, hopes, and dreams. E. Mavis Hetherington and John Kelly, For Better or for Worse: Divorce Reconsidered

Someday in the distant cyborg future, when our internal and external memories fully merge, we may come to possess infinite knowledge. But that's not the same thing as wisdom.

I grasped her gunwale and held on as she turned bottom up, for I suddenly remembered that I could not swim.

Make special memories on this day to honor the father of your children by asking the kids to prepare a special meal. (Note: save the rat poison for another time.) 

Alles, was wir als Erwachsene werden, geht darauf zurück, wer wir als Kinder waren, wie wir behandelt wurden und was unsere Ideen und Werte geprägt hat. Wir sind, wer wir waren - nur größer.

some memories, too, might better be forgotten. didn't Obasan once say, "it is better to forget"? what purpose is served by hauling forth the jar of inedible food? if it is not seen, it does not horrify. what is past recall is past pain.

What is a family, after all, except memories?–haphazard and precious as the contents of a catchall drawer in the kitchen.

I am a southern woman, and I write about the places that flavor me. I cannot help myself.

If I should go before the rest of you Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone, Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice But be the usual selves that I have known. Weep if you must, Parting is hell, But life goes on, So sing as well.

But she went and fetched some marigolds from her own little garden, and put them in a vase on the chest of drawers, for she knew there was lots of room for love, even if there was not much for great-aunties.

Not only did I avoid speaking of Salinger I resisted thinking about him. I did not reread his letters to me. The experience had been too painful.

The older you get, the more bad things happen," he said. "Good ones, too. People you care about start dying. There's no getting around it.

Life moves so fast that I can easily forget they have happened to me unless I take time to record them.

The Kingdom of Summer In my mother's cellar there were realms of golden apple, rooms of purple beet, hallways of green bean leading to windows of strawberry and grape. In her cellar there were cider seas and pumpkin shores, mountains of tomatoes— pickle trees. When I walked down the steps and pulled on the light, I saw where she kept the Kingdom of Summer.

No es carta de amor ni elegía; es carta de haberte querido y comprendido desde el principio inmemorable hasta el beso reiterado sobre tus pies amarillos, curiosamente sucios y sin olor.

Las once! La guerra ha terminado. Un clamor se eleva de las trincheras. Gorros al aire. Abrazos. Lágrimas que dejan regueros claros al deslizarse por rostros negros de mugre e intemperie. Sobreviviré. Podré contarles a mis nietos cómo fue esto.

Pensó que los recuerdos eran invisibles como la luz, y así como el humo hacía que la luz se viera, debía haber una forma de que fueran visibles los recuerdos.

canciones de Gigliola Cinquetti, que tanto le gustaban a Marianella.

Él había andado por la vida así, a punta de frases breves y enigmáticas, dejando caer boronas de información donde los demás pudieran ver una sugerencia y llenar el resto del cuadro con su propia imaginación, con sus propias memorias.

One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure its worth watching.

Se imagina que sabe qué es vivir con alguien que era fuerte, que era cariñoso, que era cortés. Que hablaba, que soñaba, que bromeaba, que comía y que reía y cantaba. Que estaba vivo, y feliz, y que era una presencia permanente, un motivo de alegría para los que le rodeaban.

Sharp nostalgia, infinite and terrible, for what I already possess.

Time must have covered it over with roses so it would not be remembered. One particular rose, that has an unexpected magic, on top of each lonely hour of gold or shadows, a place just right to hold painful memories. So that among the divine and joyful climbing roses, scarlet, white, which would leave no room for the past, the soul would be wound into the body.

Secret memories not on the road of our other memories!