Quotes About Memories

Twenty years was a long time. But Tengo knew that if he were to meet Aomame in another twenty years, he would feel the same way he did now. Even if they were both over fifty, he would still feel the same mix of excitement and confusion in her presence. His heart would be filled with the same joy and certainty.

Everyone of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That's part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads - at least that's where I imagine it - there's a little room where we store those memories.

As long as an individual's alive, he will undergo experience in some form or other, and those experiences are stored up instant by instant. To stop experiencin' is to die.

Para las personas, los recuerdos son el combustible que les permite continuar viviendo. Y para el mantenimiento de la vida, no importa que esos recuerdos valgan o no la pena. Son simple combustible.

No matter how vivid memories may be, they can't win out against the power of time.

It was the age, that time of life when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, to me.

Les souvenirs, c'est quelque chose qui vous réchauffe de l'intérieur. Et qui vous déchire violemment le cÅ"ur en même temps.

With Naoko gone, I went to sleep on the sofa. I hadn't intended to do so, but I fell into the kind of deep sleep I had not in a long time, filled with a sense of Naoko's presence. In the kitchen were the dishes Naoko ate from, in the bathroom was the toothbrush Naoko used, and in the bedroom was the bed in which Naoko slept. Sleeping soundly in this apartment of hers, I wrung the fatigue from every cell of my body, drop by drop. I dreamed of a butterfly dancing in the half-light.

I was at that age, that time of life when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, to me. And worse, I was in love. Love with complications. Scenery was the last thing on my mind.

That's what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.

Still, the time I spent with her was more precious than anything. She helped me forget the undertone of loneliness in my life. She expanded the outer edges of my world, helped me draw a deep, soothing breath. Only Sumire could do that for me.

Things cultivated over such a long time don't just vanish into nothingness.

People leave strange little memories behind when they die.

Too many memories of her were crammed inside of me, and as soon as one of them found the slightest opening, the rest would force their way out in an endless stream, an unstoppable flood.

My life ended when I was 20. Since then it's been merely a series of endless reminiscences, a dark, winding corridor leading nowhere. Nevertheless, I had to live it, surviving each empty day, seeing each day off still empty.

En definitiva -así lo creo-, lo único que puedo verter en este receptáculo imperfecto que es un texto son recuerdos imperfectos, pensamientos imperfectos. (Tokio Blues. Norwegian wood - Traducción del japonés por Lourdes Porta)

Por más que escondamos los recuerdos, jamás podemos cambiar lo que ya ha ocurrido.

They had stolen my memories from me! Nobody had that right. Nobody! My memories belonged to me. Stealing memories was stealing time. I got so mad, I lost all fear. I didn't care what happened. I want to live! I told myself. I will live. I will get out of this insane netherworld and get back my stolen memories back and live. Forget the end of the world, I was ready to reclaim my whole self.

Lumea nu este decat o lupta nesfarsita intre amintirile unor tabere opuse.

You can hide memories, but you can't erase the history that produced them.

Or maybe the ... shock of it started me covering up all kinds of memories the way a squirrel hides a nut and forgets where he's buried it.

I've heard it said that the happiest time in our lives is the period when pop songs really mean something to us, really get to us.

You can hide memories, but you can't erase the history that produced them." Sara looked directly into his eyes.

Al fin y al cabo, perder a una mujer consistía en eso. Perder esos momentos especiales que invalidaban la realidad, aun estando integrados en ella.