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...

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.

When my grandpa died, I had this same fear. I love Grandpa so much. He was Mom’s dad, and he was my favorite person in the whole world. He lived up north, between Grayling and...

And the pomegranates,/like memories, are bittersweet/as we huddle together,/remembering just how good/life used to be

Memory likes to play hide-and-seek, to crawl away. It tends to hold forth, to dress up, often needlessly. Memory contradicts itself; pedant that it is, it will have its way.

For me, at least, fiction is the only way i can even begin to twist my lying memories into something true.

You can’t burn memories, Jerri. I guess you know that now.

Nebylo tu nic pořádného k snědku, bylo to jenom velké akvárium, jehož stěny tvořily místo skleněných tabulí ze dvou stran břehy, dole písek, a nahoře nebe. A kolem dokola kvetly pomněnky a říkali vzpomínej.

Cassandra wondered at the mind’s cruel ability to toss up flecks of the past. Why, as she neared her life’s end, her grandmother’s head should ring with the voices of people long since gone. Was...

When he opens the door, I step in and an army of memories comes at me from all sides.

power of facing unpleasant facts.” True adulthood begins with doing just that, with renouncing comforting fables. There is something liberating in recognizing ourselves as mammals with some fourscore years (if we’re lucky) to make the...

I’ve played so many matches here and I have so many great memories.

I am beginning to understand the way in which memories hold us, mindfully, to the earth, by the quality of attention paid that they require to be made at all.

After all, isn’t the purpose of the novel, or of a museum, for that matter, to relate our memories with such sincerity as to transform individual happiness into a happiness all can share?

Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we’re still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our...

Moments fly, memories remain; and then memories fly, only memoirs remain and finally memoirs disappear, nothing remains!

Their memory was something tangible and heavy, and I would carry it with me.

Memories are weird. They never really leave you alone, no matter how much you try, and the funny part is–the more you try, the more they haunt you. The more you want to run away,...

Well, memory can play tricks. Most people, I think, tend to remember the good rather than the bad when someone close to them dies.

Your life isn’t behind you; your memories are behind you. Your life is ALWAYS ahead of you. Today is a new day – seize it!

some winterswill never meltsome summerswe’ll never freezeand some things will only… live in poems.

Is it not possible — I often wonder — that things we have felt with great intensity have an experience independent of our minds; are in fact still in existence? And if so, will it...

If you haven’t cried at least once while writing a chapter of your inspirational book, then you have to ask yourself if your’re writing fiction.

Put that thing down, girl. Don’t you know it steals part of your soul, that little mechanical masterpiece you hold so frivolously? Don’t you know it’s not just mine it seals into its gears and...

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.

Small moments we find so pointless can become cherished memories with time and the perspective that wisdom brings.

You can never forget what you do in a war, September my love. No one can. You won’t forget your war either.

Everyone is special; every moment in our life is unique. However difficult or painful a situation may look at present, it soon becomes a memory and a special journey. Memories make us who we are,...

Perhaps the trick is to find a gentle use for memory. Learn to cup the small and glorious moments in our hands and treasure them, finding some solace this way. Otherwise all they do is...

And gradually his memory slipped a little, as memories do, even those with so much love attached to them; as if there is an unconscious healing process within the mind which mends up in spite...

Memories were like tomb paintings, thought the Major, the colors still vivid no matter how many layers of mud and sand time deposited. Scrape at them and they come up all red and blazing.

One of the things that helps use cope with loss is the fact that while memories may remian, the emotions associated with them will fade like old photographs. At the same time, there is a...

He noticed that she threw away the crumbled bus ticket on the street as soon as she got down. He picked it up and put it in his pocket along with his own a memorabilia...

Some memories were harder to forget than others. Especially the painful ones.

He was still too young to know that the heart’s memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past.

They had stolen my memories from me! Nobody had that right. Nobody! My memories belonged to me. Stealing memories was stealing time. I got so mad, I lost all fear. I didn’t care what happened....

And the moral of the story is that you don’t remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened.

I thought I would marry my boyfriend and grow old and sick of him. I thought I would keep my friends, and we’d make different, new memories. None of that happened. Better things happened. Then...

When I look back on my childhood, my earliest memories seem like artifacts from a long-lost civilization: half-understood fragments behind museum glass.