Quotes About Forgotten

There are Behan experts in international universities, but we seem to have forgotten him here in Ireland. He was an extraordinarily gifted writer. His poetry alone is outstanding.

Things may not be immediately discernible in what a man writes, and in this sometimes he is fortunate; but eventually they are quite clear, and by these and the degree of alchemy that he possesses, he will endure or be forgotten.

My soul has been haunted by something like those forgotten melodies that come back to us at twilight, during those slow hours in which memory, like a ghost among ruins, stalks our thoughts.

Tigana, let my memory of you be like a blade in my soul.

Mindst tænkte jeg da paa, at mit Livs alvorligste eventyr skulde begynde, at en Begivenhed, der engang havde beskæjftiget mig saa levende og stærk, det tabte Frøkorn, glemt og uset, nu vilde vise sig, som en grøn, duftende Væxt, der slyngede sig fast om mit eget Livstræ.

The truth is the passion of a small and aberrant minority of men, most of them pathological. They are hated for telling it while they live, and after they die they are swiftly forgotten. What remains to the world, in the field of wisdom, is a series of long-tested and solidly-agreeable lies.

Sometimes one feels that it would be merciful to tear down these houses, for they must often dream.

I could tell I was at the gateway of a region half-bewitched through the piling-up of unbroken time-accumulations; a region where old, strange things have had a chance to grow and linger because they have never been stirred up.

all which is forgotten need not necessarily be dead

As we drew nearer the green shore the bearded man told me of that land, the Land of Zar, where dwell all the dreams and thoughts of beauty that come to men once and then are forgotten. And when I looked upon the terraces again I saw that what he said was true, for among the sights before me were many things I had once seen through the mists beyond the horizon and in the phosphorescent depths of the ocean.

I could tell that I was at the gateway of a region half-bewitched through the piling-up of unbroken time-accumulations; a region where old, strange things have had a chance to grow and linger because they have never been stirred up.

For the cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot see. He is the soul of antique Aegyptus, and bearer of tales from forgotten cities in Meroe and Ophir. He

Where once had risen walls of 300 cubits and towers yet higher, now stretched only the marshy shore, and where once had dwelt fifty millions of men now crawled only the detestable green water-lizard.

Ultimate horror often paralyzes memory in a merciful way.

Only the silent, sleepy, staring houses in the backwoods can tell all that has lain hidden since the early days; and they are not communicative, being loath to shake off the drowsiness which helps them forget.

Sometimes one feels that it would be merciful to tear down these houses, for they must often dream. It

then—and a shirt that had not seen a wash-

These men suffered enough for a hundred lifetimes, and no one in this country should be allowed to forget it.

I thought we'd been forgotten," the prisoner said. "No, you're not forgotten," Robbins said. "We've come for you.

NOTHING is more characteristic of the totalitarian movements in general and of the quality of fame of their leaders in particular than the startling swiftness with which they are forgotten and the startling ease with which they can be replaced.

El corazón conoce sus propias penas y hay momentos cuando es reconfortante pensar, como el rey David, que Dios mismo recoge nuestras lágrimas en su redoma, y ni una sola de ellas cae en el olvido del único que sabe guiarnos por los senderos del dolor.

The Harelip had taken off her heavy shawl and draped it over a headstone. The grave was tilted and covered with moss, the name worn away by the weather. The person underneath had been forgotten and was no longer mourned by the world. But for a moment, Ren thought, the small black slate looked warmed, and grateful for being chosen.

And the Top spoke no more of his old love; for that dies away when the beloved objects has lain for five years in a roof gutter and got wet through; yes, one does not know her again when one meets her in the dust box.

Some things we pack away, stick in the back of the closet, never expect to see again—but we can't quite make ourselves discard them. Like