Memories Quotes - Page 160

You can accept a falling out that changes your plans, but it's hard to accept a betrayal that changes your memories.

Making work without memory is probably one of my biggest fears. It would be indistinguishable from work that is lazy.

Something will be there when the flood recedes. We know that. It will be those people now standing in the water, and on those rooftops - many black, many poor. Homeless. Overlooked. And it will be New Orleans - though its memory may be shortened, its self-gaze and eccentricity scoured out so that what's left is a city more like other cities, less insular, less self-regarding, but possibly more self-knowing after today. A city on firmer ground.

The secret of success in society is a certain heartiness and sympathy. A man who is not happy in company, cannot find any word in his memory that will fit the occasion; all his information is a little impertinent. A man who is happy there, finds in every turn of the conversation occasions for the introduction of what he has to say. The favorites of society are able men, and of more spirit than wit, who have no uncomfortable egotism, but who exactly fill the hour and the company, contended and contenting.

Intelligence comes from meditation, intelligence comes from rebellion, intelligence does not come from memory

Mind is memory, not intelligence.

a kind of memory that tells us that what we're now striving for was once nearer and truer and attached to us with infinite tenderness. Here all is distance, there it was breath. After the first home the second one seems draughty and strangely sexed.

In the Eucharistic Sacrifice the Church venerates the memory of Mary the ever Virgin Mother of God and the memory of Saint Joseph, because he fed Him whom the faithful must eat as the Bread of Life

The people that does not care for its children or grandparents is a people that has not future. Because it doesn't have the strength or the memory to go forward.

I've learned that some memories surprise you and reveal a sharp edge just when you least expect it.

I have an awful memory, and I have a great memory. Meaning that, if I'm trying to remember something, I can't remember it. But my recall is fantastic.

Nelson Mandela set his course a long time ago, and in word and deed, years of determination, sacrifice, and faith--he set a new standard in the likes of Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and Martin Luther King, Jr. --changing the world and all of us for the better. I was one of those regular citizens watching when he made his first trip here after being released from prison. Amazing memories. I regret that I never met him in person. May he rest in peace

I sometimes wonder if our memories are a myth. We think we remember, but we are remembering the story and not the actual event?

However, for story reasons, we needed to represent them in certain ways. One of the things that sort of blew me away that I didn't know when we started is that memories are completely susceptible to change. And this is, you know, one of the many reasons why certain people are trying to get it taken out - eyewitness testimony in court cases because it's very unreliable.

I experienced racism in different settings: I was followed in stores, in cars. The way you experience racism depends on how you deal with it. My memories of Goodeve are good ones.

The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats though unseen among us; visiting This various world with as inconstant wing As summer winds that creep from flower to flower; Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, It visits with inconstant glance Each human heart and countenance; Like hues and harmonies of evening, Like clouds in starlight widely spread, Like memory of music fled, Like aught that for its grace may be Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery.

Sometimes I highjack memories. Sometimes I switch them around. Sometimes they're just in the background, like some little bass note. Those things have carried me through, especially when I first started writing. They're still there, but more in the distance these days.

As Siri says, who is deeply involved with neuroscience, emotion consolidates memory, and I think that's true.

There is a point in the grieving process when you can run away from memories or walk straight toward them.

When you travel, you can see lots of great buildings and monuments and stuff, but the best part of traveling is meeting people as you go. Those are the people who made the places you go to anyway. All my memories of traveling - yeah, there are some buildings or landscapes that I'll always remember - but I still think I remember the people I meet more than any of that.

But God is the God of our yesterdays, and He allows the memory of them to turn the past into a ministry of spiritual growth for our future. God reminds us of the past to protect us from a very shallow security in the present.

It is easier to serve God without a vision, easier to work for God without a call, because then you are not bothered by what God requires; common sense is your guide, veneered over with Christian sentiment. You will be more prosperous and successful, more leisure-hearted, if you never realize the call of God.

For me, the Internet is the opposite of memory; the Internet is amnesia, it's about today and tomorrow is another day. Printed issues are about recording time, leaving a trace and making it relevant.

The cosmos exploded, actualizing its potentiality of space and time. The centers of power, like fragments of a bursting bomb, were hurled apart. But each one retained in itself, as a memory and a longing, the single point of the whole; and each mirrored in itself aspects of all the others throughout all the cosmical space and time.

How confusing the beams from memory's lamp are; One day a bachelor, the next a grampa. What is the secret of the trick? How did I get so old so quick?