Quotes About Memories

thinking of all I had lost in the course of my life: times gone for ever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again.

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

Ogni persona agisce basandosi su dei criteri propri. Nessun essere umano è uguale a un altro. È un problema di identità insomma. Ma che cos'è l'identità? È l'originalità del sistema di pensiero basato sull'insieme dei ricordi delle esperienze passate. Più semplicemente la si può chiamare lo spirito. Non esistono due persone con lo stesso spirito.

I straightened up and looked out the plane window at the dark clouds hanging over the North Sea, thinking of what I had lost in the course of my life: times gone forever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again.

Todo un libro tras otro, los abro: la mayoría conserva entre sus páginas el olor de épocas pretéritas. Un aroma muy especial a conocimientos profundos y a emociones desatadas que, entre cubierta y cubierta, llevan mucho tiempo sumidos en un apacible sueño. Aspiro el aroma, hojeo algunas páginas y devuelvo los libros a la estantería.

Aku akan bahagia jika aku dan lari bisa menua bersama.

It's not so strange that when your memories change, the world changes.

Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart. Nakata shook his head. "That's a tough one. Nakata still doesn't understand. The only thing I understand is the present." "I'm the exact opposite," Miss Saeki said.

The passage of time will usually extract the venom from most things and render them harmless. Then, sooner or later, I forget about them.

Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart

Leía mucho, lo que no quiere decir que leyera muchos libros. Más bien prefería releer las obras que me habían gustado. (...) Así pues, no tenía este punto en común con los demás, y leía mis libros a solas y en silencio. Los releía y cerraba los ojos y me llenaban de su aroma. Sólo aspirando la fragancia de un libro, tocando sus páginas, me sentía feliz.

Cassie got in her truck.She didnt own much , but it was all there with her.A vintage Balabushka pool cue won fair & square; a backpackfrom a Boy Scout packed with Laura,s letters.a phone number in Biloxi.Her tools ,her boots ,her clothes,some books;she had a .22 pistol ,a Ruger Single-Six,strapped to her ankle.She had three hundred thousand in cash in a metal box behind her seat . She drove away .

grief splinters, Taos, it splits off into fragments (I think nostalgia does this, too, nostalgia being a very specific manifestation of grief), and that each of those fragments then has a life of its own. Every day is a new way to grieve

Um. Mom? That's my new bike? I've hardly ridden it?" But she was already figuring out the pedals. I could see her mind and her body synchronizing in the way that is the ultimate truth about remembering, the way we carry our memories all through us.

Those are her memories but she has lent them to me.

Utopia exists only in one's childhood life.

When our mothers die, we are on our own; there is no one to call for help, no one to blame, and no one left who has a copy of your grandmother's recipe for the traditional Christmas coffee cake, which you can't find anywhere. Her

the way Emily Dickinson meant when she wrote, "That it will never come again / Is what makes life so sweet.

both make the connection with objects from our past, too, and like to live surrounded by old things that wouldn't pass as antiques and aren't valuable to anyone except us.

The ancient, tremulous woman who was sitting behind the stove opposite the big cupboard may have sat there for a quarter of a century, and her thoughts and feelings are closely interwoven with every corner of the stove and every carving on the cupboard. And the stove and cupboard are alive, for part of a human soul has entered into them.

Wenn zwei voneinander scheiden, So so geben sie sich die Händ Und fangen an zu weinen, Und seufzen ohne End. Wir haben nicht geweinet, Wir seufzten nicht Weh und Ach! Die Tränen und die Seufzer, Die kamen hintennach.

In a way, looking back, it seemed a long, long time since she had been eighteen, but in another way her memories were so clear and vivid that it seemed like yesterday. Time was an accordion, all the air squeezed out of it as you grew old. And how strange that in your mind you did not feel any older. You were the same person, but where had the years gone?

But surely, if you trust God, you can believe the bad moments pass, and the good memories are worth enough.

she was a lifelong friend of some of us, and there comes a time when there are very few left who knew you as a girl, and the sudden breaking of such a tie is indeed a matter of sorrow.