Quotes About Forgotten

Nos han cortado, hemos caído. Nos hemos convertido en parte del insensible universo que duerme cuanto más despiertos estamos, y que arde, rojo, cuando nosotros yacemos dormidos. Hemos renunciado a nuestra sazón y ahora estamos tumbados, inertes, marchitos, y muy pronto seremos olvidados. Bernard

The little cares, fears, tears, timid misgivings, sleepless fancies of I don't know how many days and nights, were forgotten under one moment's influence of that familiar, irresistible smile.

Unutacak kadar eskide ve galibada kald? hepsi.

Qualunque tipo di relazione implica emozioni, che lasciano in noi un'impronta più duratura. Ricordiamo di aver amato e odiato, abbiamo una vaga idea di cos'è successo, ma nomi, volti, date e dettagli si cancellano facilmente dalla nostra memoria. Per fortuna, le emozioni restano. Altrimenti la nostra personalità, forgiata nel corso di innumerevoli esperienze, si dissolverebbe insieme ai ricordi.

I can't think of anything worse after a night of drinking than waking up next to someone and not being able to remember their name, or how you met, or why they're dead.

But she was Barbara Monroe, of Chicago, Illinois. She had attended a big-city high school, Mather. A big school in a big city was easier to fake than a small one, because anyone could be forgotten in a big school.

En este país nuestro ha sido tanta la guerra, tanta, soportada por demasiado tiempo, que los vivos ya estamos acostumbrados y los muertos olvidados y no hay quien registre el catálogo. La violencia pesa y pasa, así sin más, pasa y arrasa, y la muerte se ha ido volviendo vida cotidiana.

That lost literature which only death reads.

Hell didn't burn. And the only devils to be found were the ones you find on earth, and there were too many of those, and they looked like everybody else. Hell, though. Hell was empty. Hell was nowhere. A dead silent plain of echoes and dust and empty arms rocking. Of dead boys shot down over vast, cold oceans. Where people didn't even care enough about you to hate you. Where the people who'd promised to love you forgot your name. Hell was cold. The coldest place in the universe.

Pulsing goddess light moves through me for one moment like - Here Mr. Brown paused again. Like a glimpse of eternity instantly forgotten.

If you have been sick for long, long time, Prozac may make you high. It probably won't make you high the way pot and acid do; it will make you high by returning you to a world you've forgotten or never quite managed to be a part of, but a world nevertheless, that you at first fit into with the precision of a key to a lock or a neurotransmitter to its receptor.

It would disappear forever from her memory of Lydia, the way memories of a lost loved one always smooth and simplify themselves, shedding complexities like scales.

All she has left are things unwanted, things unloved.

Everything Mrs. Richardson had put out of her mind from the hospital stay—everything she thought she'd forgotten—her body remembered on a cellular level: the rush of anxiety, the fear that permeated her thoughts of Izzy. The microscopic focus on each thing Izzy did, turning it this way and that, scrutinizing it for signs of weakness or disaster.

It would disappear forever from her memory of Lydia, the way memories of a lost loved one always smooth and simplify themselves, shedding complexities like scales. For

She'll pause over a peppermint, still twisted in cellophane, and wonder if it's significant, if it had meant something to Lydia, if it was just overlooked and discarded. She knows she'll find no answers. For now, she watches the figure in the bed, and her eyes fill with tears. It's enough.

simply went on as if she'd never existed. As he stands there, he knows the photos

The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.

I didn't know how it had happened. Maybe we'd forgotten the rules of normal society. Maybe we'd finally given ourselves over to the wildness of the island. Or maybe we'd been savage our wholes lives, rash and animalistic in the inside, and never known it till now.

We feel ever obliged by everday charges and tasks. They conscript us more and more. We find world enough in a frame. Until at last we take our places at the wheel, or wall, or line, having somewhere forgotten that we can look up.

Thirty or forty years from now, the American adventures into the bowels of the Middle East will be forgotten details of a bumbling imperialism. But what...is taking place all along the line will profoundly alter the future of the United States.

Much of this world vanished after Columbus, swept away by disease and subjugation. So thorough was the erasure that within a few generations neither conqueror nor conquered knew that this world had existed.

He lived in chambers that had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again.

When they coughed, they coughed like people accustomed to be forgotten on doorsteps and in draughty passages, waiting for answers to letters in faded ink . . .