Quotes About Memories

This is the time to remember cause it will not last forever. These are the days to hold onto cause we won't although we'll want to.

The Doobie Brothers' 'What a Fool Believes' makes me want to move. And I still haven't gotten over the Macarena. Who has?

I lost my dad. He lost his tomorrows and I lost all the tomorrows with him. You could say that now, I appreciate them when they come. Now, I want to make them the best they can possibly be.

I had an all right high school, even though I hated school. I wasn't massively popular, but I was okay. But I wouldn't want to do it again.

If certain songs become popular enough to the point where I'll be playing them the rest of my life, I don't want them all to dwell on the same down moment that I'll have to keep reliving.

As I die, and my life flashes before my eyes, I want to see who made faces at me when I turned my head. That's all I want to see.

I do keep a tiny little journal in which I write passages that I read and want to hold on to. This practice is sort of the opposite of Twitter.

I think we'll always miss our parents. But I think we can miss them without being miserable all the time. After all, they wouldn't want us to be miserable.

I used to take my mother to Yosemite. When I turned 14, I got my driver's license, and that's where she'd want to go, so I'd go take her there for two weeks.

I loved living in London, and I didn't want to leave.

How am I supposed to let you go, that's all I'm asking. I want to hold you again, smell you, and, yes too, I just want you to fade. To please, please fade.

One Christmas, I just begged my parents like "I want to try to surf on a real board instead of these boogie boards and rafts" and they got me one.

I swear I only want to hear about you, to know what you've been doing. It's a hundred years since we've met-it may be another hundred before we meet again.

Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy. Being happy makes you want to talk, to go over everything, to share it so you can remember it all over again.

It is, I suppose, the business of grandparents to create memories and the relative of memories: traditions. We want to lodge moments, like snapshots, in the fleeting video of time.

In my dreams I come face to face with myriad reflections of myself, all unknown and passing strange. They speak unending in languages not my own and walk with companions I have never met, in places my steps have never gone. In my dreams I walk worlds where forests crowd my knees and half the sky is walled ice. Dun herds flow like mud, vast floods tusked and horned surging over the plain, and lo, they are my memories, the migrations of my soul.

It was the last time I stood beside my brother, the last time he held my flank and I his. For a time, then . . .'and his voice fell away, 'we were happy.' Though Torrent knew nothing of these Wars of Shadow, nor the other players involved, he could not but hear the sorrow in Ruin's voice, and it stung him deep inside. Fucking regrets.

Of all the weapons we turn upon ourselves, guilt is the sharpest, Silverfox. It can carve one's own past into unrecognizable shapes, false memories leading to beliefs that sow all kinds of obsessions.

Memories belong in the soil, in stone, in wind. They are the land's unseen meaning, such that touches the souls of all who would look – truly look – upon it.

He spoke to say, 'You cannot war against the man you were, And I cannot slay the man I shall one day become, Our enemy is expectation flung backward and fore, The memories you choose and the tracks I would run. Slayer of dreams, sower of regrets, all that we are.' Soldier at the End of his Days   (fragment) Des'Ban of Nemil

To grieve is the gift of the living – a gift so many of our kin have long lost.

Victory tastes sweetest in the absence of haunting memories, Bult. Savor it.

When memories have returned, Trull Sengar, solitude is an illusion, for every silence is filled by a clamorous search for meaning.

Of all the weapons we turn upon ourselves, guilt is the sharpest, Silverfox. It can carve one's own past into unrecognizable shapes, false memories leading to beliefs that sow all kinds of obsessions.