Quotes About Remembrance

People don't become better when they're dead; you just talk about them as if they are.

It is useless for me to describe to you how terrible Violet, Klaus, and even Sunny felt in the time that followed. If you have ever lost someone very important to you, then you already know how it feels, and if you haven't, you cannot possibly imagine it.

What happens in a certain place can stain your feelings for that location, just as ink can stain a white sheet. You can wash it, and wash it, and still never forget what has transpired - a word which here means 'happened, and made everybody sad'.

For Beatrice--My love for you shall live forever. You, however, did not.

For Beatrice, our love broke my heart, and stopped yours.

For Beatrice - you will always be in my mind, in my heart and in your grave.

To Beatrice- darling, dearest, dead.

For Beatrice — I cherished, you perished, The world's been nightmarished.

The Baudelaires were sad to see a framed photograph of a kind-looking man with a handful of crackers in one hand and his lips pursed as if he were whistling. It was Ike, and the Baudelaires knew that she had placed his photograph there because she was too sad to look at it.

What happens in a certain place can stain your feelings for that location, just as ink can stain a white sheet. You can wash it, and wash it, and still never forget what has transpired - a word which here means 'happened, and made everybody sad

his face was 11 A.M. November 11th.

It's just natural, it's not a great disaster. People keep talking about it like it's The End of The Earth. It's only a rock group that split up, it's nothing important. You know, you have all the old records there if you want to reminisce.

Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever forget...

Why do we begin to forget, then sometimes remember with such clarity people we've lost?

stripped of all but a single, last possession, a ring, a photograph, or letter that represented everything dearest and forever left behind that they somehow hoped, it being so small, they would be able to take with them. He had such a letter, from Enid. The days I spent with you were the greatest days of my life Ã¢â'¬Â¦

I hate women because they always remember where things are.

The jewels of sorrow last forever

He Is Not Dead I cannot say, and I will not say That he is dead. He is just away. With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand, He has wandered into an unknown land And left us dreaming how very fair It needs must be, since he lingers there. And you—oh you, who the wildest yearn For an old-time step, and the glad return, Think of him faring on, as dear In the love of There as the love of Here. Think of him still as the same. I say, He is not dead—he is just away.

My black-headed black-eyed boy. I remember every day of you. How would I forget?

He was pal o' me heart, so he was. I try not to think of him, only I can't get him off my mind. He's with me always day and night. I do see him places he's never been, in the middle of a crowd I see him. His face looks out from the top of a tram, a schoolboy wouldn't pass but I'm thinking it's him. I try to make him go away, for I'm a soldier now and I'm under orders. But he's always there and I'm desperate to hold him. I doubt I'm a man expect he's by me.

Stanislaus Jean, chevalier de Boufflers, once wrote: "Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume." How can it be that our pleasure is as fleeting as the flower? —DB

You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.

when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.

The last few hours were certainly very painful, replied Anne: but when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure. One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering, nothing but suffering-