There are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone.

There were no toys under the bed–that wasn’t why he liked it. Why he liked it was that there wasn’t anything under the bed–no chickens, no Joey, no Eloise, no sheep, no “no”s. He could...

Unhappiness is caused when we cannot let go of our memories.

This season has been great. We’ve really bonded and made memories, and that means a lot.

The first real memory I have, is one of the first times I was old enough to remember being at your house. We must have been about three, maybe four. I came and sat down...

Sometimes, remembering hurts too much.

[Aunt] Patricia smiled, and we walked in silence for a while. But it wasn’t a poisonous silence. It was the sort of silence shared by two people who’re comfortable enough not to force a conversation...

Without memories,there can be no good or evil. It will exist only indifference!

Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is best not to stir them.

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...

The soul is healed by being with children.” …

Fond memories are some of the richest possessions you can have. They never wear away no matter how often you reuse them !

Images last for ever, our minds don’t – capture what you can before the time runs out.

Time laughs in the distance as I cling to the belief memories of you will fade.

I believe that life is all about perception and timing. That good things come to those who act and that life’s about more than collecting a paycheck. I believe that the only person you’re destined...

Losing myself interests me. The fertile topsoil interests me, sprawling beneath a light dusting of snow, and the snow that crams the trunks and branches of the pines and elms and redwoods, having frozen up...

for those memories are nowjust like these little kittensI hold in my handsthose can be kissedand treasuredbut not held too tightly.

All memories fade away in the end. Then, only dreams are left. And because they are all we have, we confide our life’s worries to them.

The smells of Christmas are the smells of childhood

and I’m thinking as our bodies meet that I’ll remember this forever, and i just hope it’s for all the right reasons.

People have a tendency of filtering their memories – exaggerate the positives and downplay their weaknesses and faults. Self-preservation will be another obstacle you will have to surmount when it comes to suppressed memories.

Energetic cords are unconscious – often sentimental or compulsive – emotional ties to past and present relationships, pre-conditioned by our wounds. They are made of toxic emotions such fear, guilt, blame, hatred, obligation, grasping need...

Memories and emotions could be the greatest form of torture.

Memories are those endless treasures, which we can keep exploring till eternity and bask in their glory like a slow swinging hammock!

People have often told me that one of their strongest childhood memories is the scent of their grandmother’s house. I never knew my grandmothers, but I could always count of the Bookmobile.

Somewhere, beyond blackness, some tyrant host swaps breathing for airlessness to test me. I had no concept of myself, no link to the things I knew. It is hard to explain the lack of anything...

It does supplant the memories (of Katrina), assuming he does well.

The heart will stretch a short love into long memories.

Now that I have opened that bottle of memories they’re pouring out like wine, crimson and bittersweet.

My vocal chords fought to contain the memories that leaked out; I felt the weight off it all pressing down on me.

And because when all the words of promises and memories fade, these words that are written are the only one that remain. People may change and things may happen when we least expect it to...

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...

How memories lie to us. How time coats the ordinary with gold. How it breaks the heart to go back and attempt to re-live them. How crushed we are when we discover that the gold...

Sit and quiet yourself. Luxuriate in a certain memory and the details will come. Let the images flow. You’ll be amazed at what will come out on paper. I’m still learning what it is about...

He considered razing the house and rebuilding, but he realized that houses are not haunted, and regardless of the architecture with which we surround ourselves,our ghosts stay with us until we ourselves are ghosts.

In a person’s lifetime there may be not more than half a dozen occasions that he can look back to in the certain knowledge that right then, at that moment, there was room for nothing...

It was hard when I knew I was about to be flooded with memories of a life I hadn’t lived yet. Really, two lives I hadn’t lived yet.

In art, either as creators or participators, we are helped to remember some of the glorious things we have forgotten, and some of the terrible things we were asked to endure…

Discussing it later, many of us felt we suffered a mental dislocation at that moment, which only grew worse through the course of the remaining deaths. The prevailing symptom of this state was an inability...

The hardest thing about the road not taken is that you never know where it might have led.

La vida son pasos. Y a cada paso que das, dejas algo atrás.

If my generation is remembered for anything, it will be as the last one that remembers the world before the Internet.

You know, sometimes it’s nice to just have someone to blame, even if it has to be yourself, even if it doesn’t make sense.

For a long time, she sat and saw.She had seen her brother die with one eye open, on still in a dream. She had said goodbye to her mother and imagined her lonely wait for...

…every time I look at you autumn leaves come in between – does it matter they’re the color of your hair – or they still fall in my memory?…

Bouncing on beds, I remember from childhood, is a great depression reliever.

She said that one day they would be very old, that the world would be a different place, but it would always be their world, and that the time apart now would be a nightmare...

Some songs are never just ordinary songs, they become the memories you collect in your life.

Memories are’t like words; they’re soft and gooey. Covered with a sticky slime, like a penis after sex, or your vagina when you menstruate, and shaped like tadpoles or tiny watersnakes

Our memories have voices, too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark.