Quotes About Reminiscence

Was this classical form the reminiscence of an ancient art, descended to a popular level, or was it an original and spontaneous re-creation in a language natural to this land, where the whole of life is a tragedy without a stage?

As for the career, sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about being young again and doing it all over. Then I bring myself up short when I realize how incredibly fortunate I was.

he studied the two photographs he carried with him at all times: the first of his wife and children, the second, a portrait of him as a young man, singing on a street corner by his house.

The whole fairground with all its memories would soon be smashed into the dust.

He was already fading. I knew that it wouldn't be long until he was just a vague image, however much I tried to cling onto his memory.

I remember my wife in white.' It just made people weep to hear it...Everybody just thought it was the saddest sentence that was ever written. And it didn't matter if I never wrote another word. This one sentence had put an end to the need for any future sentences. I had said it all.

I make a great memory

When I think of your name, I feel an ache.

No one can look back on his schooldays and say with truth that they were altogether unhappy.

Can I dwell on what I scarce remember? I held a castle on the Marches once, and there was a woman I was pledged to marry, but I could not find that castle today, nor tell you the color of that woman's hair. Who knighted me, old friend? What were my favorite foods? It all fades. Sometimes I think I was born on the bloody grass in that grove of ash, with the taste of fire in my mouth and a hole in my chest. Are you my mother, Thoros?

I do so hope he plays us 'The Rains of Castamere.' It has been an hour. I've forgotten how it goes.

Lady, I have never been a hero, no Ryam Redwyne or Barristan the Bold. I've won no tourneys, no renown in war... but I was a knight once, and you have helped me remember what that meant. My life is a poor thing, but it is yours.

Ah, I could tell you everything about her. Who she was, how we met, the color of her eyes, and the shape of her nose. I can see her, right in front of me. She's more real than you are.

If he didn't talk about it, maybe he would forget. He had never wanted to remember. It might not even be a true remembering." - Bran

The past settles into afternoons, that's where time visibly slows down, it dozes off in the corners, blinking like a cat looking through thin blinds. It's always afternoon when you remember something, at least that's how it is for me. Everything is in the light.

Now the last person who remembered me as a child is gone, I told myself. And only then did I burst into sobs, like a child.

If he can remember so many jokes With all the details that mold them, Why can't he recall, with equal skill, All the times he told them!

In memory, everything seems to happen to music.

Don't you remember sweet Alice Ben Bolt? Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown; Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembl'd with fear at your frown!

1 tell you the past is a bucket of ashes.

What was hard to bear is sweet to remember.

God gave us memory that we might have roses in December.

It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe-though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.

As the dew to the blossom, the bud to the bee, As the scent to the rose, are those memories to me.