Quotes About Memories

In fact, I was one of the few trusted people that Lucy allowed to play with their kids. I spent time at their summer home, rode horses at their ranch, and swam at their beach house. I even spent a Christmas with them at Palm Springs one year.

Dad bought me a toy drum one Christmas, and I eventually destroyed it. I wanted a real drum and he bought me a snare drum. Dad continued to buy me one drum after the other.

My math is never sharper as when I meet an old girlfriend with a kid.

Dead children do not give us memories, they give us dreams." Thomas Lynch, The Undertaking   I

You and I...have lived many lives.

Pie, in a word, is my passion. Since as far back as I can remember, watching my mom and dad make their apple pies together every fall as a young boy, I have simply loved pie. I can't really explain why. If one loves poetry, or growing orchids, or walking along the beach at sunset, the why isn't all that important. To me, pie is poetry that makes the world a better place.

The eighties?' I said. 'As in, the nineteen -eighties? The decade that taste forgot? Honest, Sophie, ask your granny. Ask mine, if you like. She'll tell you the only good thing about it was that the internet and phone cameras weren't invented, well hardly anyway, so most of the awful photos are lying out of sight in drawers and shoeboxes.

post mortem triste

Victory is everything. You can spend the money but you can never spend the memories.

When a book ends, the good parts get folded up and carried around in somebody's pocket. The rest gets sold at a garage sale for a nickel.

Your mind, however, remained the same. The memories and thought patterns within it that had been twisted and warped by years of darkness and sin were left perfectly intact. In other words, that brand-new spirit within you suddenly found itself trying to work with a mind that had been totally programmed by the world!

Take the Adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes!' 'Tis but a banging of the door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are out of the old life and into the new! Then some day, some day long hence, jog home here if you will, when the cup has been drained and the play has been played, and sit down by your quiet river with a store of goodly memories for company.

Most kids don't get to go their parents' wedding.

It sounds like a cliche, but it... you do sing about what you know about. And I grew up in a small town, and I grew up in a place where your whole world revolved around friends, family, school, and church, and sports.

That's my ideal day, time with my boys.

My mom loved to sing - and I'll go on record and say she was the worst singer ever. I'd get up and move away from her!

I don't imagine I'll ever get over missing him, Raymond said. Some things you don't get over. I believe this'll be one of them.

THE YEAR WAS 1988. I had taken a job helping young people on the Red Lake Ojibwe Reservation in northern Minnesota to collect the memories of the tribal elders. It was a wonderful job, and tremendously rewarding. As well as working with young people, I had the good fortune to meet and share time with the elders. I sat at their tables, heard their stories, shared their laughter, and felt their sadness. It was a profoundly human time, and I valued it more than I can express.

FATBACK'S DEAD" The words on the slip of paper struck me like a blow. "Fatback's dead." It was not just the news itself, though the words cut deep. It was the very fact of the note, stuck on my windshield on the Red Lake Indian Reservation in northern Minnesota

And when I am old, and my body has begun to fail me, my memories will be waiting for me. They will lift me and carry me over mountains and oceans. I will hold them and turn them and watch them catch the sunlight as they come alive once more in my imagination. I will be rich and I will be at peace.

Looking across this field, we see the scale of heroism and sacrifice. All who are buried here understood their duty. All stood to protect America. And all carried with them memories of a family that they hoped to keep safe by their sacrifice.

Alas! how few look back upon their youth, Who glean not from the past the unwelcome truth That Time, of stealthy step and pinion grey, Brings no new joy like that he takes away!

Still Time, great wizard of this earth, Who holds o'er human minds such sway! Oft bids to scenes of later birth Old recollections to give way.

I am a miser of my memories of you And will not spend them. When they were anticipations I spent them And bought you with them, But now I have exchanged you for memories, And I will only pour them from one hand into the other And back again.