Quotes About Memories

Despite the intensity of our brief friendship in Sacramante, Liviana Tricante never came to visit me.

Melandra shivered, remembering all the hours she had spent alone as a young girl, and the tall, sinister shadows that might have waited for her in the tangled corners of the garden playgrounds.

These moments, here in this house, your lovely house, should not be sullied by thoughts of Death; they are a time for Life.

We are part of the sea, aren't we? How long have we lived here, breathed in its scent, eaten the produce soaked in its salt? Think how we used to play in it as children.

Their language is that of dreams and memories.

I shall never forget how he paused and turned, looked back over his shoulder at me. His eyes, his face were full of secrets and humor. I felt as if the arrow of the sun had pierced my heart. His beauty seemed doomed, somehow.

Did the sight of Tayven kindle old memories? Perhaps he was sad to see Tayven had grown from a beautiful fey boy into a man. It could remind him of his own mortality. When Tayven had first gone into Almorante's service, the prince had been little more than a boy himself.

Oh, Verity, let it go. You have built a shrine within you that calls to ghosts.

I stopped walking and looked hard at this grand woman who had once been a girlhood friend. We had not known each other very long, but our friendship had been intense and intimate for all its brevity.

The sounds he had perceived were no more than rogue emotions and memories, echoing from wall to wall.

The past is not all gilded memories of summer, Merlan. If some aspects of it are uncomfortable, it doesn't mean they shouldn't be confronted.

He drifted into his memories then, and Sarpanita's mind was filled with dusty images, like ancient paintings hung too long in the light. She fell into the dream of them, lived them; saw Shemyaza as a young man, heard his laughter. He was beautiful in the alien way of the Annage, with the incredible height and in his long, serpent face. She knew that Penemue had loved him as more than a brother. He showed her their love-making and she could witness it without shyness.

Power was gathering, swirling above them; a maelstorm of memories, emotion, and purpose.

He's scorched us, Ninka. We are just memories of his power.

Perhaps there was just too much information for him to interpret, and the important symbols were lost in a confusing maelstorm of ancient memories. Or perhaps the fault lay within himself.

He was conscious of the great weight of the keep above him, its brooding memories, its twisted bitterness in defeat: Old Caradore was insane, driven mad by all it had witnessed.

The thought of sex conjured murky, flickering memories of dark rituals he had performed, debasement, torture, unspeakable defilement of spirit and flesh. Despite his claims of indifference, he could not disassociate himself from those events.

Being a child is such a shining gift, yet we don't know how precious it is until it's worn out and gone away.

You may have tangible wealth untold; Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold. Richer than I you can never be - I had a mother who read to me.

RICHER THAN GOLDYou may have tangible wealth untoldCaskets of jewels and coffers of gold.Richer than I you can never be --I had a mother who read to me.

Georgia, GeorgiaThe whole day through;Just an old sweet songKeeps Georgia on my mind.

The sun had by now whispered to the sub-arctic sky giving the gray darkness a glow, a gentle glow. Rostnikov remembered the ghost of a winter morning when he was a child.

She realized that the stains on the pot—like the scratches on her records, the dent on the kitchen floor where she dropped a skate, and the lines on her face—they all added up to the same thing: her life. They said, in their own way, the only thing that any of us can say, the only thing that is worth saying: I passed this way. I was here.

The stark truth is, of course, that grief never dies. The American counsellor Lois Tonkin reminds us that loss isn't something we 'get over', and it doesn't necessarily lessen, either. It remains at the core of us and we just expand our lives around it, burying it deeper from the surface. So with time it may become more distant, more compartmentalised and therefore easier to manage, but it does not go away.