Quotes About Reminiscence

Don't go yet. Please. Tell me a story, one about us. Tell what it meant. How on earth did it happen? The story, Pat—tell it to me.

Gonzaga was the kind of place you'd not even think about loving until you'd left it for a couple of years.

You ask if I miss you. I think of your voice, your hands, and your eyes when you look straight into mine. I remember your courage that I hadn't suspected, and it gives me courage.

Foi por isso que a gente acabou, Ed, por uma coisinha pequena que sumiu ou quem sabe nunca tenha estado de verdade nas minhas mãos

The older I get, the better I was.

I'm in the process of convincing my parents to sell me their house so I can just live in my childhood bedroom forever. I figure it might make me age slower.

Middle age is when you have met so many people that every new person you meet reminds you of someone else and usually is.

The little room was full of ordinary things that had already become precious, that I couldn't help but want to have again, to feel like whoever it was I used to be, whether it was my past or someone else's.

yorgun gözlerimi kapay?p çevremdeki dünyay?, tepemdeki güneÅŸi unuttum. Onun bana geri gelmesini bekledim. Ah, sevgilim! Sevgilim! Art?k sana içimi dökebilirim! Sanki daha dün ayr?lm???z gibi, sanki daha dün senin o güzel elin elimdeydi, sanki en son dün görmüÅŸtüm seni. Sevgilim! Sevgilim!

the very old men [...] believing that they had danced with her and courted her perhaps, confusing time with its mathematical progression, as the old do, to whom all the past is not a diminishing road but, instead, a huge meadow which no winter ever quite touches, divided from them now by the narrow bottle-neck of the most recent decade of years.

She was a page torn from a calendar, a year folded neatly and laid aside in some place you never look.

He was wishing the past was a place you could backtrack to, take a sideroad you'd walked hurriedly past, wake somebody from a bad dream he was having.

And I cannot touch her face  And I cannot touch her hair, And I kneel to empty shadows-- Just memories of her grace; And her voice sings in the winds And in the sobs of dawn And among the flowers at night And from the brooks at sunrise And from the sea at sunset, And I answer with vain callings  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Same weather over here as back home," I said.

photographic memory for places.

Und ich weiß heute noch, wie der Kuss schmeckte, nämlich nach Wein und nach Honig.

neighborhood, the place I left each

Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you call'd them sweet?

Where are the songs I used to know, Where are the notes I used to sing? I have forgotten everything I used to know so long ago. ("The Key-Note")

Vetëm kur na ndodh që e humbasim diçka, e kthejmë kokën pas dhe fillojmë t'ia ndiejmë mungesën.

People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't.

When they drove past it on the motorway, he used to fantasise that his parents were about to turn their vehicle towards the car park and surprise him, say the boot was full of secretly packed luggage and they were heading off for a fortnight. When he had kids of his own, he'd told himself, he'd surprise them that way for real.

historical memory law of 2007

His glasses, carefully folded, placed in my mum's outstretched hand. His coat. An envelope. His watch. His shoes. And when we left, clutching a plastic bag with his belongings, the clouds were still there,