Quotes About Reminiscence

Dallas is a good town. I spent a lot of time there as a kid. It always nice to come back.

I love the smell of freshly cut grass. It takes me back to summers in Maine.

I don't remember taking pictures with eighty percent of the people that I have taken pictures with.

Everybody talks about that one when they first meet me. 'Man, I still remember the play you shook Jordan.' Everybody gonna always remember it because it was Jordan.

I take a long drag on the Malediction like maybe it'll start a tornado and carry me back home like Dorothy.

It is very strange to think back like this, although come to think of it, there is no fence or hedge round Time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough.

I will always try To hold my head up to the sky If only just to let you know That straight from my heart I still miss you so.

Yeah. Rose." Jill sighed and stared vacantly ahead. "She's all he sees when he closes his eyes. Flashing dark eyes and a body full of fire and energy. No matter how much he tries to forget her, no matter how much he drinks . . . she's always there. He can't escape her.

Niets is een grotere kwelling dan een herinnering die net buiten de grenzen van het geheugen zweeft

I sat and looked up at the blue sky and across at the blank windows for a long time. A woman I'd once cared about had worked in anadvertising agency over there. Sometimes, when the sun came at them from a different angle, I could see through the windows across the street and watch her moving about her office. Agency was gone now. Maybe the whole building was gone, replaced by a new one. It was hard to remember.

One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be.

as one by one the scents and sounds and names of long-forgotten places come gradually back and beckon to us.

But why did he remember only the things in life that had hurt him? Why couldn't he remember the things that had given him joy or caused him to smile: the jokes he had heard, the songs that had made him lift his arms in the air, the people who had loved him, whose cheeks he had touched with his fingers?

Entering my childhood home is a little disorienting, like reading the end of a novel that I'd started, then abandoned, long ago.

Revenirea in casa copilariei ma face sa simt dezorientat, ca si cum as citi finalul unui roman pe care l-am inceput si apoi l-am abandonat, cu multi ani in urma.

Entering my childhood home is a little disorienting, like reading the end of a novel that I'd started, then abandoned, long ago.

There were times when, like a word on the tip of her tongue, Mariam's face eluded her. But now, in this place, it's easy to summon Mariam behind the lids of her eyes.

Almost ten years. But, for a moment, standing there with Tariq in the sunlight, it was as though those years had never happened. Her parents' deaths, her marriage to Rasheed, the killings, the rockets, the Taliban, the beatings, the hunger, even her children, all of it seemed like a dream, a bizarre detour, a mere interlude between that last afternoon together and this moment.

With the passing of time, she'd tire of this exercise. She would find it increasingly exhausting to conjure up, to dust off, to resuscitate once again what was long dead. There would come a day when the details of his face would begin to slip from memory's grip. She would not miss him as much as she did now, when the ache of his absence was her unremitting companion.

But now she dreamed every night of lost things.

Moscow, Baikonur, the view from Novy Mir—none of it. Her mother's face across the kitchen

Det var gode tider, dagene blev længere og luften mere skjær, jeg rustet mig for to dager og drev tilfjælds, til fjældtinderne, jeg traf renlapper og fik ost av dem, små fete oster med urteagtig smak. Jeg var der mere end en gang.

Tredje slektledd råder nu i Jensens store krambod på Segelfoss. Grunnleggeren var Per Jensen, kallet Per på bua, det fortsatte med hans sønn Theodor, Theodor på bua, som drev det meget vidt og ble pott og panne og fremskrittsmann i byen. Det er ikke lenger siden, folk minnes ham godt, han var samtidig med gammelløytnantens sønn, han som bare brydde seg om musikk og ikke ble til noe.