I took on a year of reading books for a reason. Because words are witness to life: they record what has happened, and they make it all real. Words create the stories that become history...

Nikmati nyanyian pagi sendu ini. Mari kembali ke masa yang hanya bisa kita kenang itu dengan menumpang rindu.

Yet whenever I think of light, I’m always reminded of her.

When you’re young your reality is accepted by most. When you’re older, your reality changes and that seems to upset most people.

What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

most of the timesit’s the hardest to saywhat I love moreyouor your memory.

That same yearbook said I’d be in prison with a wife named Roberta.”~Conversation between Riley and Stella, “Sugar and Spies: Spy Sisters Book 1

What you keep alive is what you truly care about, no matter how many times you die in the process.

Her body was a prison, her mind was a prison. Her memories were a prison. The people she loved. She couldn’t get away from the hurt of them. She could leave Eric, walk out of...

it felt increasingly, as I became more whole, that I had made it all up, and that I was a phoney. I had to come to some place of acceptance. If I made it all...

Perhaps the rest of the world was gone. It was the most plausible answer. Heaven knows she couldn’t see or think of anyone else. That must be the answer, they were the only two people...

Her task seemed ridiculous, the result of a momentary weakness, of believing in the impossible, that stories have a trajectory where we find things out, resolve things to our satisfaction and come out the other...

I’m 65 years old. Everyday the future looks a little bit darker. But the past, even the grimy parts of it, well, it just keeps on getting brighter all the time.

A thick rivulet of lost blood reflects a city that will mourn but never die.

Someone is pounding on a door within you and hoping for an answer. They want to tell us the secret tale of ourselves. The stories we’ve never told. Some African tribes believe if you were...

I was six years old when my mother died. For a long time afterward, the sweet and earthy magnolia scent of her would permeate my dreams. No matter what I was dreaming about, good or...

You swallow hard when you discover that the old coffee shop is now a chain pharmacy, that the place where you first kissed so-and-so is now a discount electronics retailer, that where you bought this...

For many years there have been rumours of mind control experiments. in the United States. In the early 1970s, the first of the declassified information was obtained by author John Marks for his pioneering work,...

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...

You can never go back to a specific moment. That’s why it’s important to live in the present and not the past. Don’t let foolish memories get in the way of the makings of new...

The future reshapes the memory of the past in the way it recalibrates significance: some episodes are advanced, others lose purchase.

The Memory Of You Is Like A Drug To Me

I’d had much practice turning my mind away from certain memories of my childhood. I could quickly dial her remembered voice from a whisper to a silence.

wounds make you awake in the memories but tears makes tough and dry in real life.

Like memories in cold decay, Transmissions echoing away, Far from the world of you and I Where oceans bleed into the sky..

She had realized there are only fragments, that ‘memories’ always consist of fragments the mind puts together into a pattern, adapts a picture staked out early without the need for a conenction with anything that...

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...

Memories aren’t supposed to be hidden anyway.

Memories are like dreams. You remember how you got to the front of the classroom with no clothes on.

When you choose your life, ignore people, when you make it in life, remember some friends, when you sing a song, praise your source, when predicaments arises, stand your ground.

The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.

And I can promise you something, because it was a thing I saw many years later – a vision in the book thief herself – that as she knelt next to Hans Hubermann, she watched...

…spiritual or emotional pain doesn’t become a memory so much as a bruise …

During the day, memories could be held at bay, but at night, dreams became the devil’s own accomplices.

As I was standing in my kitchen cooking yesterday, a quiet task that causes my mind to begin reminiscing (similar to washing dishes, cleaning the bathrooms and mowing), I reached for the kitchen scissors and...

[Think] of an experience from your childhood. Something you remember clearly, something you can see, feel, maybe even smell, as if you were really there. After all you really were there at the time, weren’t...

were the last words that I wrote for you enough to tell youthat in my death the light that shone through my painful darknesswas a blinding vision of your eternal smile?cold scalpel’s steel whispers tear...

My heart’s with you, Bill, no matter how it turns out. My heart is with all of them, and I think that, even if we forget each other, we’ll remember in our dreams.

To reminisce with my old friends, a chance to share some memories, and play our songs again.

I thought of you and how you love this beauty,And walking up the long beach all aloneI heard the waves breaking in measured thunderAs you and I once heard their monotone.Around me were the echoing...

The world is shaped by two things — stories told and the memories they leave behind.

We thought everything would be forgotten, but I still remember yourclaws running down my back.I wonder if you still think about us,the way I do.How our legs would crash into each other in the middle...

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

The past may not hurt you, but it won’t challenge you, either.

Unhappy memories are persistent. They’re specific, and it’s the details that refuse to leave us alone. Though a happy memory may stay with you just as long as one that makes you miserable, what you...

Keep memories of insult on a short leash, and memories of blessing on a long one.

Falling asleep with hopes and wishes that I rarely get to hold in my hand for long…go me. All I’ve got are memories and secrets.

Right now, in this dusty anti-paradise, I have absolutely no hand in the future at all.

Our memories and events in our lives are untidy things. We wish that we can file them away and shut the door, or wish the opposite – that they would stay forever.

Even as I think them, the words lose their context, dissolve into grains of absurdity in the vast ocean of day-to-day hunger.