Quotes About Reminiscence

I was given some bits of rock sugar and a few flower petals which I did not of course like to throw away so that I was still clutching them on the bus back to Satipur. When I thought Inder Lal was not looking, I respectfully tipped them out the side of the bus, but they have left the palm of my hand sticky and with a lingering smell of sweetness and decay that is still there as I write.

Hayat birbirinde ay?rd?klar?n?, k?sa bir müddet için tekrar yakla?t?r?r gibi olsa bile, uzun zaman yan yana b?rakm?yor. Geçen günleri bir daha geri getirmek mümkün de?il ve sadece hat?ralar iki insan? birbirine ba?layacak kadar kuvvetli de?il.

Hayat, birbirinden ay?rd?klar?n?, k?sa bir müddet için tekrar yakla?t?r?r gibi olsa bile, uzun zaman yan yana b?rakm?yordu. Geçen günleri bir daha geri getirmek mümkün de?ildi ve sadece hat?ralar, iki insan? birbirine ba?layacak kadar kuvvetli de?ildi.

Gözlerimi kapad???m zaman senin hayalini görüyorum." diyorsun. Ah Aliye, ben gözlerim aç?kken bile hep seni görüyorum.

Ak?t?p gözüm ya??n? Hat?rlar?m gülü?ünü; K?v?rc?k saçl? ba??n? Gö?süme koyamad???m!

While in a vintage restaurant...the past isn't quaint while you're in it. Only at a safe distance, later, when you see it as decor, not as the shape your life's been squeezed into.

I am like a room where things once happened and now nothing does, except the pollen of the weeds that grow up outside the window, blowing in as dust across the floor.

You'll be here but not here, a muscle memory, like hanging a hat on a hook that's not there any longer.

That was all quite long ago. I see it in retrospect, indulgently, from the point I've reached now. But how else could I see it. We can't really travel to the past, no matter how we try. if we do, it's as tourists.

I am like a room where things once happened and now nothing does, except the pollen of the weeds that grow up inside the window, blowing in as dust across the floor.

I'd wanted to leave home, but have it stay in place, waiting for me, unchanged, so I could step back into it at will.

I would pore for hours over the stalls of worn necklaces, sets of gilt spoons, sugar tongs in the shape of hen's feet or midget hands, clocks that didn't work, flowered china, spotty mirrors and ponderous furniture, the flotsam left by those receding centuries in which, more and more, I was living.

An odd thing, souvenir-hunting: now becomes then even while it is still now. You don't really believe you're there, and so you nick the proof, or something you mistake for it.

most people prefer a past is which nothing smells.

What was the rationale for all this pillaging? Souvenirs. These people needed something to remember themselves by. An odd thing, souvenir-hunting: now becomes then even while it is still now. You don't really believe you're there, and so you nick the proof, or something you mistake for it.

The collective memory is notoriously faulty, and much of the past sinks into the ocean of time to be drowned forever; but once in a while the waters part, allowing us to glimpse a flash of hidden treasure, if only for a moment.

I'd wanted to leave home, but have it stay in place, waiting for me, unchanged, so I could step back into it at will.

I try to remember if the past was exactly like this. I'm not sure, now. I know it contained these things, but somehow the mix is different. A movie about the past is not the same as the past.

so hard, sometimes, to tag those memories accurately.

Amazing how quickly the past becomes idyllic. Ivory

The next few weeks were the worst he could remember. Too many things were coming back to him, too much of what he'd lost - or - sadder - had never had in the first place. All that wasted time, and he didn't even know who'd wasted it.

It had been so long since she had seen him and she had lived on memories until they were worn thin.

It seems we've been at cross purposes, doesn't it? But it's no use now. As long as there was Bonnie, there was a chance that we might be happy. I liked to think that Bonnie was you, a little girl again, before the war, and poverty had done things to you. She was so like you, and I could pet her, and spoil her, as I wanted to spoil you. But when she went, she took everything.

she could recall nothing about Charles except the dying-calf look on his face when she told him she would marry him.