Memories Quotes - Page 182

Listen as the wind blows From across the great divide Voices trapped in yearning Memories trapped in time

I've always been a fan of Nintendo. My first memories of playing games are on my Nintendo 64 with 'Mario Kart,' so when I found out that Nintendo 3DS made a fashion game, I was drawn to it. 'Style Savvy Trendsetters' is great because anyone can play it.

I listen to people talking sometimes, that great river that is language, with all its undercurrents of grammar and nuance, and I wonder how we all learn so quickly to speak it, given that we begin when we are barely old enough to stand upright. I have no memory of finding it hard. Indeed, I have no memory of it at all.

It was like those songs I'd heard as a child, each so familiar, and all mine. When i got older and realized the words were sad, the stories tragic, it didn't make me love them any less. By then they were already part of me, woven into my conciousness & memory

And that was it; it was so easy for her. My own memories did not even belong to me. But I knew she was wrong. I had seen that comet. I knew it as well as I knew my own face, my own hands. My own heart.

I'd still thought that everything I thought about that night-the shame, the fear-would fade in time. But that hadn't happened. Instead, the things that I remembered, these little details, seemed to grow stronger, to the point where I could feel their weight in my chest. Nothing, however stuck with me more than the memory of stepping into that dark room and what I found there, and how the light then took that nightmare and made it real.

So many versions of just one memory, and yet none of them were right or wrong. Instead, they were all pieces. Only when fitted together, edge to edge, could they even begin to tell the whole story.

It's still a memory worth having, even if it's not exactly what you imagined.

If history starts as a guest list, it has a tendency to end like the memory of a drunken party: misheard, blurred, fragmentary.

Other memories stick, no matter how much you wish they wouldn’t. They’re like a song you hate but can’t ever get completely out of your head, and this song becomes the background noise of your entire life, snippets of lyrics and lines of music floating up and then receding, a crazy kind of tide that never stops.

This was a memory I wanted to keep, whole, and recall again and again. When I was fifty years old I wanted to remember this moment on the porch, holding hands with Cameron while he shared himself with me. I didn’t want it to be something on the fringes of my memory like so many other things about Cameron and myself.

I don’t want these memories to become slippery, to just disappear into the thin air of life the way most things seem to. I want them to stick – even the bad ones – so I repeat them often.

Into my heart's treasury I slipped a coin That Time cannot take Nor a thief purloin- O better than the minting Of a gold-crowned king Is the safe-kept memory Of a lovely thing.

So now she and I are friends - not with benefits, but memories.

I have one vivid memory of one of the days that the marches were taking place. We were in a Catholic, predominantly Polish and Lithuanian neighborhood. Chicago is a place where people define themselves by their parish and by their ethnicity.

So often the most meaningful moments in our lives are those that we share with our families. Treasured memories are created by celebrating, sharing and embracing the moments of life with the people we love.

I'm very musically inclined. My parents were opera singers. As a young child, I could hear operas and I knew if they were sad, or if they reminded me of something, or they brought back a memory.

The fancy is indeed no other than a mode of memory emancipated from the order of time and space.

Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.

Sweet memory, wafted by the gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.

Turkey has its own interests and historically, Turkey conquered most of the Arab world, and the Arabs had to fight wars of liberation to free themselves from the Turks. That's in the past and that doesn't necessarily shape what is going on but it's there and it's there in people's memories.

Memory is the primary and fundamental power, without which there could be no other intellectual operation.

We owe to memory not only the increase of our knowledge, and our progress in rational inquiries, but many other intellectual pleasures

He is a benefactor of mankind who contracts the great rules of life into the short sentences, that may be easily impressed on the memory, and so recur habitually to the mind.

One of the aged greatest miseries is that they cannot easily find a companion able to share the memories of the past.