Quotes About Reminiscence

every time we remembered something, we weren't remembering the event itself but the last time we'd remembered it. It

My childhood had been vanishing bit by bit while I'd been living in New York, trying to pretend it had never existed. Maybe that was what the old saying – that a person can never really go home again – was all about. You couldn't go home because even though home might still be there in brick and mortar, everything else would be unrecognizable.

What i like about photographs is that they capture a moment that's gone forever, impossible to reproduce.

I'd gotten used to always talking to you inside my head whenever things got mixed up for me. It felt like you were still around, for a long time afterwards...

A good memory, I'm sure," Zen returned. "But a memory nonetheless.

Kate Carlisle

Win walked over to me. He held out his palm. In the middle of it was a single black sequin from the dress Scarlet had lent me. "You lost this," he said. I giggled, slightly embarrassed to be leaving bits of myself behind. "I'm shedding.

She could feel herself forgetting all the details of Marx---the sound of his voice, the feeling of his fingers and the way they gestured, his precise temperature, his scent on clothing, the way he looked walking away, or running up a flight of stairs. Eventually, Sadie imagined that Marx would be reduced to a single image: just a man standing under a torii gate, holding his hat in his hands, waiting for her.

Like Sam, I once lived in a house up a hill from the Happy Foot Sad Foot sign. The Happy Foot Sad Foot sign was taken down in 2019, but I am told you can still find its remains in a gift shop somewhere in Silver Lake.

I missed Caroline in dozens of ways, but through them all was the absence of the ongoing dialogue, real or imagined.

Can you understand what it's like to miss something so terribly that you'll accept even the shadow of its memory to keep your heart from withering away?" -From "Danaïd Night

Scent: When she wore the hat, even many years later, she could always smell her mother's perfume & it was hard to remember she was supposed to be alone.

The drunk Gen Xers danced fast, as if they were still young, but she knew they'd wake up, roll out of bed, and groan at the ache in their knees.

When a thing is told to you and you can't remember it happening it doesn't count somehow. It is as though it had nothing to do with you. Remembering, that's what counts.

How now in the contemplative evening of his days, the pious Bildad reconciled these things in the reminiscence, I do not know; but it did not seem to concern him much, and very probably he had long since come to the sage and sensible conclusion that a man's religion is one thing, and this practical world quite another. This world pays dividends.

Yes, I have heard something curious on that score sir, how that a dismasted man never entirely loses the feeling of his old spar, but it will still be pricking him at time.

How now in the contemplative evening of his days, the pious Bildad reconciled these things in the reminiscence, I do not know; but it did not seem to concern him much, and very probably he had long since come to the sage and sensible conclusion that a man's religion is one thing, and this practical world quite another. This world pays dividends.

Une fois rentrés à l'hôtel nous nous plaisons à reconstituer sur une planche de l'armoire cette ordonnance de la pâtisserie et c'est un délice, quand nous en rouvrons la porte, de sentir la bouffée de ce chocolat qui s'épuise à petites bouchées.

He thinks, I remembered you, Thomas More, but you didn't remember me. You never even saw me coming.

our long-lost paradise with all the aching, poison-sweet memories it holds

He did not want to see her photograph and discover what the years had wrought, or hear about the details of her life. He preferred to preserve her as she was in his memories, with the dandelion in her buttonhole and the piece of velvet in her hair, the canvas bag across her shoulder, and the beautiful strong-boned face with its wide and artless smile.

I worked on a farm. Played ball and loafed along the fishing and swimming holes of the White River, and my boyhood was not a lot different from that of other youngsters.

My half-suppressed Canadian years, my whole childhood and youth, rose like a corpse from the bottom of the sea to confront me.

You might not remember what you had for dinner last night, but you remember everything about one particular summer of your youth. It's like that.