For as soon as we have used an opportunity and have actualized a potential meaning, we have done so once and for all. We have rescued it into the past/…/, wherein nothing is irretrievably lost,...

Capture yesterday’s moments,they are future memories

I breathe in…the silenceof my own heartaching with tendernesswith memories..Of home.

It is very strange to think back like this, although come to think of it, there is no fence or hedge round Time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like...

Distance and time might keep people apart, but the heart and mind will always stay connected by memories, miracles and the power of two unlikely souls that were destined to meet.

Memories are what makes each person different.

I was assailed by memories of a life that wasn’t mine anymore, but one in which I’d found the simplest and most lasting joys: the smells of summer, the part of town I loved, a...

The reason negative emotions burn out so very slowly in us is because we keep igniting them with old, unpleasant memories.

When we turn 21,we begin to regret the sins we did not committed…

You know what my earliest memories are? Going from one burlesque town to another. My father was in burlesque.

Sometimes the hardest part of growing it is not the responsabilities you might get, but it is to lose the essence of love , and never find the way back to where it was.

In the short term, it would make me happy to go play outside. In the long term, it would make me happier to do well at school and become successful. But in the VERY long...

Just remember: If you make unfounded assumptions before choosing a path, you’re blindly sauntering along.

The sands of time cannot be stopped. Years pass whether we will them or not… but we can remember. What has been lost may yet live in memories.

Jestem pijana. Od wina tylko trochę. Najbardziej od wspomnień.

I remember his eyes. They are just like mine. Every time I look in the mirror I see him. I try not to look at my self too much.

When people go away they vanish, turn to nothing, stop being. They live only in memories, haunting the imagination.

What kind of songs do you like? she asked.”The ones that remind me of you,” I said.

Die Bücher habe ich nach und nach gekauft von dem Geld, das ich mir Stundengeben verdiente. Viele davon antiquarisch, alle Klassiker zum Beispiel, ein Band kostete eine Mark und zwanzig Pfennig in steifem, blauem Leinen....

They were people whose lives were slow, who did not see themselves growing old, or falling sick, or dying, but who disappeared little by little in their own time, turning into memories, mists from other...

Writing from memory like this, I often feel a pang of dread. What if I’ve forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the the truly...

Gritting my teeth as if it requires actual physical strength, I push the memory of him dying in my arms down, deep down. It almost seems to fight me, to want to surge into the...

Our spirit is mightier than the filth of our memories.

The voices may propel you to warble along, or to dance, they may inspire you to seduction or insurrection or inspection or merely to watching a little less television. The voices of Barrett Rude Jr....

When we let the expectations of others or own unreasonable self-expectations rule, we silence the power of our Legacies.

I find things hidden in books: dried flowers, locks of hair, tickets, labels, receipt, invoices, photographs, postcards, all manner of cards. I find letters, unpublished works by the ordinary, the anguished, the illiterate. Clumsily written...

Something still exists as long as there’s someone still around to remember it.

I answer the heroic question, ‘Death, where is thy sting?’ with ‘It is in my heart and mind and memories.

Childhood memories were like airplane luggage; no matter how far you were traveling or how long you needed them to last, you were only ever allowed two bags

Staring out to sea, I finally forced myself to stop thinking of her as someone still somewhere, if only in memory, still obscurely alive, breathing, doing, moving, but as a shovelful of ashes already scattered;...

I know you’re just a rag doll now, sewn together with memories that we might have had. I know you’re just the dream inside of a dream And don’t worry, I know I don’t know...

Who are we without our memories?

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...

They stared at each other. Every ocean, every river, every minute they had walked together was in their gaze. He said nothing and she said nothing. She kneeled by him, her hands on him, on...

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…

Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.

The first person who is on your mind the moment you open your eyes after a long sleep is the reason either of your happiness or pain.

To be human is to have a collection of memories that tells you who you are and how you got there.

There were so many of these moments that could never be captured accurately, even in the camcorder, only in the heart.

If you see an old man talking to himself, he might not be a fool or crazy. He might be sharing a conversation with the past, warmed by a memory he need not reveal.

Sometime we must visit old memories to make new ones.

Even now that he is gone I have him still, in the richness of my memories. I’ve lived my life again just telling it to you.

Wish for the best, prepare for the worst

Shapes began to appear in the mist as it thickened. Clary saw herself and Simon as children, holding hands, crossing a street in Brooklyn,; she had barrettes in her hair and Simon was adorably rumpled,...

Die Vergangenheit war wie jene altmodischen, mit Kräutern und Blumen gefüllten Duftkissen, deren Aroma die Kleider durchdringt und an ihnen haften bleibt.

I need a new trick if I am to walk without legs, see without eyes or speak without words.

I could tell you it’s the heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.

You can outrun your memories, but sometime, you will have to stop. And when you do, there will always be Stepmother, waiting to be remembered.

These memories sustained him, but not so easily. Too often they reminded him of where he was when he last summoned them. They lay on the far side of a great divide in time, as...

Asides your power, passion and poise, what glues the posters of your impacts on memorial walls is how you treat those you need and those who need you.