Quotes About Forgotten

All that I've lived I've forgotten, as if I'd vaguely heard it. All that I'll be reminds me of nothing, as if I'd lived and forgotten it.

of having forgotten the colour of loves and the taste of hatreds. We thought we were immortal.

On the other side sit we — the errand boy from around the corner, the unruly playwright William Shakespeare, the barber who tells stories, the schoolmaster John Milton, the shop assistant, the vagabond Dante Alighieri, those whom death either forgets or consecrates and whom life forgot and never consecrated.

Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful – only then do I find myself and feel comforted.

Indifferent to this, and grieving only as much as he needs to and for as little time as possible — over the death of a son, for example, whom he will forget as the years pass, except on his birthday; over the loss of money, which he mourns until he gets some more or becomes used to the loss — humanity continues digesting and loving. Life recovers and carries on. The dead are buried. Losses forgotten.

Dormir (...) Una nada con respiración por fuera, una muerte leve de la que se despierta con nostalgia y frescor, un ceder los tejidos del alma al masaje del olvido.

The beauty of ruins? That they're no longer good for anything.

Every day things happen in the world that can't be explained by any law of things we know. Every day they're mentioned and forgotten, and the same mystery that brought them takes them away, transforming their secret into oblivion. Such is the law by which things that can't be explained must be forgotten. The visible world goes on as usual in the broad daylight. Otherness watches us from the shadows.

To sleep, to be far away, remote without knowing it, to forget with one's very body, to have the freedom of unconsciousness like a refuge on a forgotten lake, stagnating among thick foliage in the hidden depths of forests

I've always been interested in the idea of people who fell through the cracks.

There are many singers who have got an exceptional talent, but spend their lives singing in local trains or hotels. Does the country even know who they are? Music in India is restricted only to Bollywood. Whoever manages to make a mark there is remembered. The ones who fail to reach and make it big there are forgotten.

My first big mission for UNICEF in Ethiopia was just to attract attention, before it was too late, to conditions which threatened the whole country. My role was to inform the world, to make sure that the people of Ethiopia were not forgotten.

The circumstances, including my body and my parents, whom I may curse, are my soul's own choice and I do not understand this because I have forgotten.

When one of my characters becomes aware of a magical element, it might be because the world is wider than we assume it to be, but it might also be a reminder to pay attention to what is here already, hidden only because it's been forgotten.

We could hang around for ten years and nobody would care enough to identify us. Therein lies the horror.

While the 1963 Birmingham church bombing is the most historic, there also was a series of church burnings in the 1990s. Recognition of the terror those and similar acts impose on communities seems to have been forgotten post-Sept. 11, 2001.

Also perversely awe-inspiring is the fact that a person of Bechamp's extraordinary accomplishments has been written out of history books, textbooks and all encyclopedias.

All that is fair shall pass away; all that I love, all that I fear for—these shall the doctor take away, lifting them from my memory on the point of a steel blade. What has he to give in return? A hell of vapour, distorting sight; a hell of sound, drowning the soul.

I had forgotten. Disgust shadows desire. Another life is never safely envied.

El olvido era la muerte postrera y definitiva de las cosas y la gente.

El olvido es el hijo consentido de la historia y el alero bajo el cual palpita la convivencia.

Life left us all where we were meant to be or where it was convenient to leave us and then forgot us, which is as it should be.

54. The children of the Spanish lion, said Ruben Dario, a born optimist. The children of Walt Whitman, Jose Marti, and Violeta Parra; torn apart, forgotten, in mass graves, at the bottom of the sea, the Trojan destiny of their mingled bones terrifying the survivors.

Soñé que en un cementerio olvidado de áfrica encontraba la tumba de un amigo cuyo rostro ya no podía recordar.