Quotes About Memories

We can't stop time, but it will sometimes stand still for love. PEARL S.

A man's soul is as full of voices as a forest; there are ten thousand tongues there like all the tongues of the trees: fancies, follies, memories, madnesses, mysterious fears, and more mysterious hopes. All the settlement and sane government of life consists in coming to the conclusion that some of those voices have authority and others not.

There are times in your life when, despite the steel weight of your memories and the sadness that seems to lie at your feet like a shadow, you suddenly and strangely feel perfectly okay.

It's always hard to lose somebody. It leaves a hole in you heart that never grows back.

Memories have no life. They're just pale reminders of a time that's gone-like faded photographs.

You can't make them unhappen. You can't just leave them behind, because once they've happened, they're part of you, part of your past, and their memories become part of your present, and their consequences become part of your future. Things that happen become you. And you can never leave yourself behind.

I don't get homesick at camp; I get campsick at home.

Field of Dreams is probably our generation's It's A Wonderful Life.

But this was the first time someone he loved would be gone forever. He didn't like to think about the forever part. But when he did, which was often, the only place he wanted to be was home.

You know," he said, "when you were little and tired like this, I'd throw you over my shoulder and carry you home like a sack of rice. Sometimes I wish you were still that little. I wish I could still do that." "Da-ad. That is so embarrassing," is what she said. But sometimes she wished it, too. Sometimes she wished it with all her heart.

scars tell stories of who we are and what we did. A person without marks hasn't done anything.

The only things that are increasing in cost while everything else heads to zero are human experiences—which cannot be copied. Everything

Before you are old attend as many funerals as you can bear and listen. Nobody talks about the departed's achievements. The only thing people will remember is what kind of person you were while you were achieving.

Right now no matter your age these are your golden years. The good stuff will yield golden memories and the bad stuff will yield golden lessons.

The influence your family has on you as you grow up can reach across time and distance to touch you in profound, and sometimes disturbing, ways years after you think you've "grown beyond all that.

My mom sang in high school choir and so did my father.

C'mon, now," yelled Arden, "that was off by a mile." Kenny sidled up to Buster, holding the beer can that Joseph had obliterated with the potato gun. The can looked like a piece of shrapnel pulled from an unlucky body, jagged edges and splattered with warm pieces of potato.

While she organized the albums in the cabinet beneath the hi-fi, she placed the James Chance and the Contortions album Buy on the phonograph and cued up the fifth song, which she remembered her parents often playing before they would all head out into the world to create some new form of chaos.

we were watching Jackson Browne on VH1 Storytellers, a singer she loved so much, she had taped it earlier in the summer and would watch it while she drank a beer at the end of the day. Right after "Doctor My Eyes," her favorite song, I asked her if I could go with Zeke to Memphis.

Death brings with it a duty and devotion that cannot be explained to those who don't know it. Why, after all, would you keep his crummy plaid shirts and give his good suits away? Why do material things matter at once less and more? Why, in the void, does ritual, both inherited and invented, rush in?

Time can be a greedy thing-sometimes it steals the details for itself.

She would have to learn the lesson every day: that, sometimes, all that will define a person — instill within them dignity and purpose — all the human answers, are frozen in a few moments, a few days, and all the days to come are just a looking back.

You've changed me forever. And I'll never forget you.

Good-bye to how you'd curl away in sleep, one hand to your forehead, doing the hard work of dreaming... good-bye to your drunkenness, which I admit I liked because of how you'd cry sometimes, or follow me from room to room, naked, dripping from a bath, able to say what you couldn't, sober.