Memories Quotes - Page 208

Strong winds buffet the sea oats and tall dune grasses, tossing sand and seabirds where it will, winding my sister's golden hair into sunlit spirals of silk until it becomes the only good memory I have of her -- the only memory I allowed myself to keep.

Yesterday was a memory. Today was a hope.

Yesterday was a memory. Tomorrow was a hope. Today was another day to live and do one's best to love

There are men you build a future with, Dani. And then there are men that you know, going in, that you're only making a memory with. I know the difference ..Some memories are worth the price. I'll deal with it.

I wanted desperately to go on living in someone's memory. If we are not remembered, we are more than dead, for it is as if we had never lived

The happening and telling are very different things. This doesn’t mean that the story isn’t true, only that I honestly don’t know anymore if I really remember it or only remember how to tell it. Language does this to our memories, simplifies, solidifies, codifies, mummifies. An off-told story is like a photograph in a family album. Eventually it replaces the moment it was meant to capture.

I thought back to a childhood memory: the first dead body I'd ever seen was the body of an immigrant washed up on shore. I went back to that memory. As a child, you can't process these types of images in a healthy way. I don't think anyone can, really. So I explored that. These people were buried in mass graves. I don't know if their families ever heard from them again.

There is a time to study a map passionately, obsessively. To see where you've gone, where others have gone before you. To commit to memory every obstacle, every danger. Shakespeare had a term for this obsession: mappery. But there is a time, too, when you say, come dragons. I challenge you to find me.

Before I proposed to my now-wife, I was understandably nervous. My father suggested that I take stock of all of my experiences and relationships with women, from my earliest memories to present day, and see if I had learned anything that might inform my decision.

There was something in the pages of these books that had the power to make him feel better about things, a life raft to cling to before the dark currents of memory washed him downstream again, and on brighter days, he could even see himself going on this way for some time. A small but passable life. And then, of course, the end of the world happened.

As long as we remember a person, they're not really gone. Their thoughts, their feelings, their memories, they become a part of us.

I have much clearer memories of my time in Egypt: songs on the radio, the rhythms that accompanied belly dancers, the sound of the adhan - the Muslim call to prayer. I just soaked it all up.

All that he had of her was his memory, where he held every moment, every single moment that she had been his. That was all he had, to keep out the loneliness.

Even in that time of utter darkness, somewhere deep inside me the memory of love and goodness had stayed alive.

Frankly, the image of his father wearing bell-bottoms, smoking a joint, and calling his mother a “totally groovy chick” was wrong on so many levels he wanted to erase the whole thing from his memory

But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, they've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.

I can't believe 50 years have gone by since that film was released. I blinked and suddenly here I am. We all really felt blessed and as for me; how lucky can a girl get. Great music does more than enhance a film, it cements our memories in the film going experience.

Utah is so wonderful. My greatest memories of Utah are of always being outdoors. It's a very athletic environment that I think gave me a lot of drive to be fit and live well.

Memories are like water.

Every song brings back memories, like I remember where I wrote all these songs. 'Universal Heartbeat' was my apartment in New York City. 'My Sister' was at my apartment in Boston. I remember places and I remember what I was thinking when I wrote it.

Memory is the medium of the must-have-been.

...it is curiosity, initiative, originality, and the ruthless application of honesty that count in research- much more than feats of logic and memory alone.

In my defence I can only say that her past, too, like mine, like everyone's in fact, was a locked box. Occasionally we allow people a peep, but generally only at the top level. The darker streams of our memories we negotiate alone.

What happiness is there in just the memory of happiness?

Memory is identity....You are what you have done; what you have done is in your memory; what you remember defines who you are; when you forget your life you cease to be, even before your death.