Quotes About Memories

It is important to remember that, as Ken Auletta wrote in his definitive Greed and Glory on Wall Street, "no reporter can with 100 percent accuracy re-create events that occurred some time before. Memories play tricks on participants, the more so when the outcome has become clear. A reporter tries to guard against inaccuracies by checking with a variety of sources, but it is useful for a reader—and an author—to be humbled by this journalistic limitation.

Out of all the wishes on the Parental Wish List, "good memories" are one of the few that clearly depend upon how you raise your child. Don't forget it.

Myths have a very long memory.

I remember my mom dressed like Janis Joplin.

It was a very happy time, but like all happy times it had no landmarks.

The person who has lived the most is not the one who has lived the longest, but the one with the richest experiences.

Cakes are special. Every birthday, every celebration ends with something sweet, a cake, and people remember. It's all about the memories.

My brother was a great favorite with everybody, and his death cast a gloom upon the whole neighborhood.

So for twelve miles I rode with Sherman, and we became fast friends. He asked me all manner of questions on the way, and I found that he knew my father well, and remembered his tragic death in Salt Creek Valley.

I don't have relationships with my exes -- once you've sucked all the juice out of an orange, why would you keep it around!

How it is I know not, but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the very bottom of their souls to each other, and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning. Thus, then, in our hearts' honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg – a cosy, loving pair.

Yes, I have heard something curious on that score sir, how that a dismasted man never entirely loses the feeling of his old spar, but it will still be pricking him at time.

And if at times these things bent the welded iron of his soul, much more did his far-away domestic memories of his young Cape wife and child, tend to bend him still more from the original ruggedness of his nature, and open him still further to those latent influences which, in some honest-hearted men, restrain the gush of dare-devil daring, so often evinced by others in the more perilous vicissitudes of the fishery.

Las cosas más maravillosas son siempre aquellas que no pueden expresarse, los recuerdos más sentidos no dejan epitafios.

havng an affair with a man was a plunge into change, shocking irreversible change, like an amputation It was not a dip in a pool, after which one came out and dried the same body with the same hands. And as for the much touted memroes, far from treasuring them, she found them a continuing torment, which she would willingly have burned from her brain cells...Yet for this sex, good or mot so good, she had paid a steep price. Marjorie felt rifled of her own identity.

You're only young once, they say, but doesn't it go on for a long time? More years than you can bear.

Memories... are always blinding. They cause you pain... and sorrow.

There's a special place kept for the person who first breaks your heart.

You're born and things stick to you. Some fall off, but most you carry around for the rest of your life. Let me be old and foolish when I grow up.

Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.

A last request—grant it, please. Never bury my bones apart from yours, Achilles, let them lie together . . . just as we grew up together in your house

would to god I'd stayed right here in my own house with a third of all that wealth and they were still alive, all who died on the wide plain of Troy those years ago, far from the stallion-land of Argos.

When a mother dies, a daughter grieves. And then her life moves on. She does, thankfully, feel happiness again. But the missing her, the wanting her, the wishing she were still here—I will not lie to you, although you probably already know. That part never ends.

When a daughter loses a mother, the intervals between grief responses lengthen over time, but her longing never disappears. It always hovers at the edge of her awareness, ready to surface at any time, in any place, in the least expected ways. This isn't pathological. It's normal. It's why you find yourself, at twenty-four, or thirty-five or forty-three, unwrapping a present or walking down an aisle or crossing a busy street, doubled over and missing your mother