Quotes About Memories

Do you prefer Mitch? Or is Mitchell better?'.. .. Mitch, I say. Mitch is what my friends called me. 'Well, Mitch it is then,' Morrie says, as if closing a deal. 'And, Mitch?' Yes? 'I hope one day you will think of me as your friend.

losing a loved one is never really starting over. More like continuing without.

And on a cold Sunday afternoon, he was joined in his home by a small group of friends and family for a 'living funeral'. Each of them spoke and paid tribute.. Some cried. Some laughed. One woman read a poem: 'My dear and loving cousin.. Your ageless heart as you ,love through time, layer on layer, tender sequoia..' .. And all the heartfelt things we never get to say to those we love, Morrie said that day.

And on a cold Sunday afternoon, he was joined in his home by a small group of friends and family for a 'living funeral'. Each of them spoke and paid tribute.. Some cried. Some laughed. One woman read a poem: 'My dear and loving cousin.. Your ageless heart as you move through time, layer on layer, tender sequoia..' .. And all the heartfelt things we never get to say to those we love, Morrie said that day.

I never wanted anyone else, he said quietly. I know, she said. I was still in love with you. I know. She nodded. I felt it. Here? he asked. Even here, she said, smiling. That's how strong lost love can be.

Sometimes, when you're losing someone, you hang on to whatever tradition you can.

When people leave this Earth, their loved ones always weep." She smiled. "But I promise you, those who leave do not.

Those moments are a gift.

But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begins. So this was my mother's story. And mine.

My mother had been all over me as a kid—advice, criticism, the whole smothering mothering thing. There were times I wished she would leave me alone. But then she did. She died. No more visits, no more phone calls.

With his power over time, For could have taken anything he desired from this new world. But a man who can take anything will find most things unsatisfying. And a man without memories is just a shell.

Once, lovers on faraway shores sat by candlelight and dipped ink to parchment, writing words that could not be erased. They took an evening to compose their thoughts, maybe the next evening as well. When they mailed the letter, they wrote a name, a street, a city, and a country and they melted wax and sealed the envelope with a signet ring.

When someone passes, people always ask, why did God take them? A better question would be why did God give them to us? What did we do to deserve their love, their joy, the sweet moments we shared? Those moments are a gift.

Memories are not in places, Papa. Memories are in your mind. They're here, too.

PEOPLE SAY THEY "find" love, as if it were an object hidden by a rock. But love takes many forms, and it is never the same for any man and woman. What people find then is a certain love. And Eddie found a certain love with Marguerite, a grateful love, a deep but quiet love, one that he knew, above all else, was irreplaceable. Once she'd gone, he'd let the days go stale. He put his heart to sleep.

Because we embrace our scars more than our healing," Lorraine said. "We can recall the exact day we got hurt, but who remembers the day the wound was gone? "From the moment you woke up in that hospital, I was different with you, and you were different with me. You were sullen. You were mad. You fought with me constantly. You hated my restrictions. But that wasn't the real reason for your anger, was it?" Lorraine reached down and clutched Annie's fingers.

Because we embrace our scars more than our healing," Lorraine said. "We can recall the exact day we got hurt, but who remembers the day the wound was gone? "From

But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because her is where yours begins. So this was my mother's story. And mine.

Seberapa banyak pun kau mengumpulkan hari-hari sepanjang hidupmu, semua takkan cukup untuk menggantikan satu hari itu, satu hari yang ingin sekali bisa kau miliki lagi.

And one day spent with someone you love can change everything.

Kembali menjalani yang pernah kautinggalkan itu lebih sulit daripada yang kaukira.

What happened? she asked. During that war? He had never quite told her. It was all understood. Soldiers, in his day, did what they had to do and didn't speak of it once they came home. He thought about the men he'd killed. He thought about the guards. He thought about the blood on his hands. He wondered if he'd ever be forgiven. I lost myself, he said.

My mother inhaled.

not knowing that certain memories are for this world and certain ones only come through in the next.