Memories Quotes - Page 11

Even the memory of cradling her in my arms is pure euphoria. And all that I ask out of life is that it be constant and unending euphoria.

You’re everything to me. But at best, I’m just a memory to you.

So many memories come rushing over me as I stand here. They run through my mind like a movie…an old Italian movie. Some scenes are in black and white. Some are in vivid color. Some are silent…just images etched into my memory. Many are filled with laughter or tears. They all bring back the happiness of Terra d’Amore and a life in the paradise of my youth. The sights and the sounds and the smells are all returning to me now, filling up my senses, overwhelming my heart.

Photos’re better than nothing, but things’re better than photos ’cause the things themselves were part of what was there.

You were the hardest year of my life and I’ve never been so happy. What does that say about me?

Well, there's a piece of Maria in every song that I sing. And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings. And there is always one last light to turn out and one last bell to ring. And the last one out of the circus has to lock up everything.

There are times now, and my life has changed so completely, that I think back on the early years and I find myself thinking: It was not that bad. Perhaps it was not. But there are times, too—unexpected—when walking down a sunny sidewalk, or watching the top of a tree bend in the wind, or seeing a November sky close down over the East River, I am suddenly filled with the knowledge of darkness so deep that a sound might escape from my mouth, and I will step into the nearest clothing store and talk with a stranger about the shape of sweaters newly arrived. This must be the way most of us maneuver through the world, half knowing, half not, visited by memories that can’t possibly be true. But when I see others walking with confidence down the sidewalk, as though they are free completely from terror, I realize I don’t know how others are. So much of life seems speculation.

Her memories got dizzy and fell out of her head.

It should be some kind of goal to be absolutely clear about your past experiences and have let them all go and accepted them in full.

People say memories are there to be cherished. I believe memories are there to be created, and if you do something worthwhile today, you will stop living in the past.Look forward and create, don't look back all the time

We are somebody’s memories when we are gone,

At one point, she said after a while, at one point we thought we might raise silkworms in one of the empty rooms. But then we never did. Oh, for the countless things one fails to do!

Let us measure time not by moments but by memories.

Memories are simply moments that refuse to be ordinary

It didn’t hurt me. Not “hurt”. Hurt is a four letter word. It’s short, almost cute sounding. Aawwww, did that hurt? No. It didn’t hurt. Destroyed, Obliterated, Desecrated, Annihilated, Demolished, Shattered, or Demoralised maybe… But no. It didn’t hurt me. It didn’t “hurt” me at all.

It make me upset, whenever i look back and think of old days, it bring me so many memories, i have done lots of mistakes,I made lots of people sad, but I have got a lot of great memories too, i had so many amazing days and wounderful memories but i also know which those days are over. i don't think i will let my self ever do so much terrible things, i want to change myself in a better shape, a better an understandable person, i want to be a good person, i want to love all humans beyond any condition, i believe they are all my brothers and sisters, no matter if they have different religions or they don't have any religion at all, i will keep loving them even if some of them hurt me, i will not allow myself to hurt them back cause i want to be a better person and i want to stay human, cause i believe we should not hurt each other even if they did, we should not do it back. Let's stay human.

One of our duties on this planet is to dissolve the negative emotions associated with negative memories while we motivate ourselves and other people.

Memories are strange things. Without being something I can hold in my hand, they wield a beguiling power over me. Like a mirage in the noontime heat of summer they dance before my inner eyes and beckon me to find water where there is no water.

He owned a whole world full of memories, of lovely moments relived and happy recollections. I'm not saying he was happy or that he didn't suffer. He suffered very much, but he did not despair; he still drew nourishment from what he had been given. But the sadness never left him. Happiness needs more than memories of the past to feed on; it also needs dreams of the future.

Old age breeds the miracle of recall. You have no short-term memory atall; you can’t remember what you did minutes ago, but you can recall with exquisite clarity what you did on your fifth birthday and how it all felt.

I don't know where to start," one [writing student] will wail. Start with your childhood, I tell them. Plug your nose and jump in, and write down all your memories as truthfully as you can. Flannery O' Connor said that anyone who has survived childhood has enough material to write for the rest of his or her life. Maybe your childhood was grim and horrible, but grim and horrible is Okay if it is well done. Don't worry about doing it well yet, though. Just get it down.

What a host of little incidents, all deep-buried in the past -- problems that had once been urgent, arguments that had once been keen, anecdotes that were funny only because one remembered the fun. Did any emotion really matter when the last trace of it had vanished from human memory; and if that were so, what a crowd of emotions clung to him as to their last home before annihilation? He must be kind to them, must treasure them in his mind before their long sleep.

I hate my body Hate what it remembers. Hate what it let him do.

I fought for you, I fought for usI fought for the memories and the laughter that came upon us,Now here we are, we have become unknown people to each other,Worlds apart in an instant, for what once was is now goneSo tell me what your secret is to letting go like you did.

He lives vividly in her recollections, however, and his memory is etched on her soul.

I want to take all our best moments, put them in a jar, and take them out like cookies and savor each one of them forever.

Rich dreams now which he was loathe to wake from. Things no longer known in the world. The cold drove him forth to mend the fire. Memory of her crossing the lawn toward the house in the early morning in a thin rose gown that clung to her breasts. He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins. As in a party game. Say the words and pass it on. So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.

we always knewthat good times camewith termination contractseven if we weren't quite readyto sign it.

What I cannot tough, remains a memory, I am blinded by an imagined light. A remembrance of what can never be

Never forget,Each day that we have together is a precious gift.In the web of daily living, we are creating character.Let's take the time to create memories, listen and observe.Time flees, and it does not return.If we lose today, it is gone forever.Let's live for the present, and be prepared for the future. Let's grow strong, let's grow bigger, let's grow TOGETHER!

Once fallen in true love, a person can't really fall out of it, no matter what. How much ever you try to hate your better half, you'll end up falling more instead. Some part of him will always reside in your heart.

Some memories find a permanent place in the heart, and we remember those times as being sunlit and beautiful

And yet, even as she spoke, she knew that she did not wish to come back. not to stay, not to live. She loved the little yellow cottage more than she loved any place on earth. but she was through with it except in her memories.

I stared at the stop sign and even though I was only five I thought, I will remember that stop sign for the rest of my life. The dents and the bumps, the colors and the shape, the three-fingered, black scuff and long silver scrape - even the dirty gray sky behind it. Days will go by and I will grow old but from time to time the image of this stop sign will come to my mind and I will think about it and remember what I was thinking at this exact time. I even remember thinking that I was awfully young to have such a profound thought and premonition but there it was.

At his age, it can be overwhelming and painful to harbor a thought accompanied by too much nostalgia. Not that he wanted to. Mabel, in her final years, had stopped listening to music. The songs of her teenage years brought her back to people and feelings of that time - people she could never see again and sensations that were no longer coming. It was too much for her. There are people who can manage such things. There are those of us who can no longer walk, but can close our eyes and remember a summer hike through a field, or the feeling of cool grass beneath our feet, and smile. Who still have the courage to embrace the past, and give it life and a voice in the present. But Mabel was not one of those people. Maybe she lacked that very form of courage. Or maybe her humanity was so complete, so expansive, that she would be crushed by her capacity to imagine the love that was gone.

And look at all I've accumulated---a house! piles of clothing! two children! an ex-husband! books! boxes of letters! dishes! tiny shampoos from fancy hotels! vases! canned goods! jewelry! computers! acres of old journals! couches! bedsteads! toys galore! stuffed animals! and heaps of memories like wet rags, bunches of them, hanging off me, weighing me down.

In old age, past haunts the present; memories replace the real life!

No skill is more crucial to the future of a child than literacy.

She quickly realized she had an affinity for the older books and their muted scents of past dinners and foreign countries, the tea and chocolate stains coloring the phrases. You could never be certain what you would find in a book that has spent time with someone else. As she has rifled through the pages looking for defects, she had discovered an entrance ticket to Giverny, a receipt for thirteen bottles of champagne, a to-do list that included, along with groceries and dry cleaning, the simple reminder, 'buy a gun.' Bits of life tucked like stowaways in between the chapters. Sometimes she couldn't decide which story she was most drawn to.

Still, though, I can't be sure if the zoo as I recall it was really like that. How can I put it? I sometimes feel that it's too vivid, if you know what I mean. And when I start having thoughts like this, the more I think about it, the less I can tell how much of the vividness is real and how much of it my imagination has invented. I feel as if I've wandered into a labyrinth. Has that ever happened to you?

For him, it appeared he could freezethe moment in a memory; only for it to slip through hishands like water.

These are hard memories, and I will save the rest of the story for another time.

He was both everything I could ever want…And nothing I could ever have…

Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.

I handed the photo back to her. The caretaker gazed at it as if it were a lucky charm, a return ticket to her youth.

Her memories were beads jumbled loose in a box, unstrung.

Today is another day! Yesterday is gone but not its memories. There were so many things we expected yesterday which did not happen and what we least expected happened instead. Some are still expecting something. Expectation is a pillar of life. We all do have our expectations for today. Though we may or we may not be able to tell with certainty how our expectations would materialize. We ought to take life easy. Well, it may not be so easy to take it easy but, take it easy! Stay focused and entrust your trust in God. After all what you least expects can happen; serendipity can visit you and stay with you forever at a twinkle of an eye. The coin of life can however turn within a moment of time and your expectations can become a big had I know and a nightmare; the vicissitudes of life can rob you at any moment of time. No one knows what the next second really holds. What matters in life is to do what matter; plant the seed of life God has entrusted in your hands and dare to ensure its abundant fruitfulness. The very problem in life is living to neglect the very reasons why you are living because of the problems you may face in living why you must live. When you trade why you must live for why you must not live, you are ruled by what you know but you do not know how it is ruling you. Once we have life, let us live for life all about living and living life is life!

The richest person in the cemetery is the one who left behind the most happy memories.

Every quote, every book, every film seemed to suggest that ‘one day’ someone would come into my life and love me with an intensity and a passion I had never experienced before. And to their credit they were right; It all came and went so fast it really did feel as if it were just ‘one day’....

Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar...

There comes a time in your life when you have to choose to turn the page, write another book or simply close it.

A tormented mind wants to forget, what a broken heart will always remember.

I am sick of old ghosts and I just want to feel safe again without the haunts of old vulnerabilities.

Nostalgia is your brain's way of photoshopping the blemishes of your past.

A lifetime of memories does not provide empirical proof of the value of living. No one memory has a quantifiable value to anyone expect the holder of the memory. Parenting in large part consists of creating positive memories for children. An accumulation of a lifetime of memories does create a musical score that we can assess from an artistic if not scientific perspective. Each happy memory generates a beat of minor joy that when strung together form the musical notes demarking a person’s prosodic inner tune.

[M]ost people go through life a wee bit disappointed in themselves. I think we all keep a memory of a moment when we missed someone or something, when we could have gone down another path, a happier or better or just a different path. Just because they're in the past doesn't mean you can't treasure the possibilities ... maybe we put down a marker for another time. And now's the time. Now we can do whatever we want to do.

My painful memories sift through me like sand through stretched fingers. Only small pieces cling and stay around for me to keep, the rest just disappear. I know not where and I don’t

The popular idea that a child forgets easily is not an accurate one. Many people go right through life in the grip of an idea which has been impressed on them in very tender years.

They have both loved you with a child’s love, and now a man’s. It is the child’s love that holds you together . . . cemented by the moments you shared with them that they treasure most.

Your memory straddles my mind.