Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.

I would think of certain winter nights when he wedged himself between Nona and me in bed, a furtive warmth embedded in his skin already tinctured with virginal earth and milk and possibility, or how...

when I finally begin to driftinto sleepyour memory is the…firstand the moonlightthe last, to kiss my face.

I have been so very, very fortunate in my life. I’ve met or been in contact with several of my childhood heroes. I’ve interacted with people all over this planet, and even though I couldn’t...

Sometimes the bridges you burn light the way out of your darkness, but the memory of the blaze will be burned into your heart and mind forever.

So, we skipped Annabel, and discussed condoms. I said I liked the orange ones, and we ended our talk in laughter.

A sleep of night may fix your bones but to fix your soul you need to sleep a little longer ,maybe forever❤

My memories are like a shuffled deck of cards, each one coming up at random.

It’s the team that finishes the grind that has the special memories.

Tessa had lain down beside him and slid her arm beneath his head, and put her head on his chest,listening to the ever-weakening beat of his heart. And in the shadows they’d whispered, reminding each...

Us reaching the moon convinced Gorbachev and other leaders that the Soviet Union couldn’t compete with the U.S., so they revised their agenda. But people have short memories.

Time is not an enemy as such, but a missing person, sending cryptic postcards from the past.

It’s not easy remembering the good times.

We don’t even survive in the memories of the living. Science has destroyed that myth. Whenever we remember something, what we’re doing is remembering the last time we remembered it; our memory doesn’t go back...

Sitting alone…where we usually used to sit…n looking behind those memories ,we enjoyed together…..

The Doctrine is the Ecstasy

I blinked and the images were gone. But I remembered how the laugh and the howl and the splash would ripple and echo in the stillness of our lake, and I wondered if ripples and...

The past must remain tangible only from a distance and in its truest form, not appearing anymore precious than it was, lest it make the present unbearable. Memories are only for reminding which must never...

Always take a picture for everywhere you go; if you don’t, then all you just lost was the precious memories and moments

But sometimes the memories feel so real, so visceral, so personal, that I confuse them with my own.

It was one of those rare times when remembering the dead was more inmportant than tending to the needs of the living.

… I believe in some sense much akin to the belief of faith, that I noticed, felt, or underwent what I describe—but it may be that the only reason childhood memories act on us so...

When you travel, take many photographs of the place to have a historical memories of the place.

We spend our lives in the attempt to capture memory forever; to capture moments; to capture Time itself.

For our own part, we learned a great deal about the techniques of love, and because we didn’t know the words to denote what we saw, we had to make up our own. That was...

There is so little to remember of anyone – an anecdote, a conversation at a table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the...

«,Vengarme? ,Venganza? Yo ya tomé la mía. Corté las cabezas de los bandidos que acabaron con mi familia. Las clavé en tres estacas y las miré durante días y días. Y en elvacío y la...

Memories, even bittersweet ones, are better than nothing.

People often get their imagination’s mixed up with their memories.

Whatever I learned,Whatever I knew,Seems like those faded years of childhood that flew,Away in some dilemma,Always in some confusion,The purpose of this life,Seems like an illusion!

…I recall that day on the beach – the sand so brilliant, the clouds so massive, and the wind punishing your hair…

I also know that I was not the only seeker of the Holy Grail. One day, somebody will be worthy enough. All that is left for me are my memories—the weekend in Faro, when I...

…someone ought to invent a tool, a kind of plane to shave the lies away from stories and deception away from memories. I’m a collector of shavings.

I don’t know why they call it life, it’s just a moment with memories.

When he told it, I remembered. He handed me my past like… like a spear. But I do not know if I should take it. Is it still mine, if I do not want it?

You pay for what you get, you own what you pay for… and sooner or later whatever you own comes back home to you.

Memories, like everything else, are momentary.

Forgetting isn’t enough. You can paddle away from the memories and think they are gone. But they will keep floating back, again and again and agian. They circle you, like sharks. Until, unless, something, someone?...

Don’t ever feel bad that someone couldn’t give you all of their heart. Be grateful that you can take the least complicated part of their soul with you, wherever you go. This is more than...

I kiss her ghost, and sleep with the dust on her photograph, next to my bedside.

The easiest way to leave the past behind is to remember that love does not live in the past, only memories — love lives in the present.

I don’t know what you’re going through life doing if you’re not really trying to collect some really great memories.

Perhaps it was smartest, after all, to collar your memories and isolate them, sedating the irascible ones, banishing the grotesques, systematizing the rest; maybe coaxing a lion into a wheeled cage on occasion and pulling...

The past is no good if you can’t learn from it; therefore, no sense in dwelling on it.

Truth starts with a sense.

Everyone was trying to forget something, but they could never seem to find the way to do it. All they ever seemed to do was make it worse. Such quiet madness, the masses led.

The ethics of eating people are blurry at best in the fog of my undead amnesia, but I expect more for such a high price. What I want are the moments I will never have....

Looking back into childhood is like turning a telescope the wrong way around. Everything appears in miniature, but with a clarity it probably does not deserve; moreover it has become concentrated and stylized, taking shape...

Songs are memories… Either u smile or get a tear in your eyes..

Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth.