Quotes about forgotten

The stranger thought it might be God himself had forgotten much from our pasts, events far distant, events of the same day. And if a thing is not in God’s mind, then what chance of it remaining in those of mortal men?

If you become too readily available to people, they begin to take you for granted; pull away, and they will clamor for you. It's a subconscious thing our society has created in the minds of the masses. This is why most of the "greats" didn't become recognized until after their death. If you're overlook, rejoice, maybe your one of the future greats.

Some of us will be long forgotten before we are even dead. Most will never be remembered at all, not even by family.

If we go down the rabbit hole of our unconsciousness and try to unravel the knotty points of our life story we may encounter a bunch of hidden niceties or emotional stowaways. Forgotten details in the windmill of our mind may daintily reveal, where things might have gone wrong. (“I wonder what went wrong.”)

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.

We have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; but thou shalt not know thyself. We are all under the same mental calamity;

A poetess is not as selfishas you assume.After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride—and spaces—the groom,she knows that as soonas she has penned the poem,it’s yours to consume.So, without giving it a think,she blows on the inkand the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day,landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips.But more often than not,you can easily spotthem trodden and forgotten,becoming sodden and rotten.Yet, she will continue to makewhat’s others to takebecau

Be bold in life. Seize the moment. There is no surrender, no retreat. There is only conquer or be conquered, victory or defeat. Anything less is to be forgotten to history.

The pain of what happened next lives in our collective memory. It mauls our souls each day. Yet it must be told. Silence guarantees no healing. It promises that the child's life would be forgotten and that its mission might, one day, be thought significant. Silence is the enemy of history, and history is all we have.

My dreams become reality.Your dreams become forgotten.I guess that's why we're different,I don't fit into the crowd.Whereas you're part of the flock.

The world is a forgotten place.

A heroic act is not always followed by glory and parades and forever freedom,” she said. “It’s often small, disregarded, or forgotten. But it matters.

Write what should not be forgotten.

Poetry is jealous of you tonight, for as soon as I come to pen a few words, your perfume attacks me in the most civilised manner and I forget myself. I forget the poem. I forget the ...

In a polished surface of metal I happen to notice my reflected face; it wears a pale, beaten lonely look, eyes looking out at nothing with an expression of fear, frightened and lonely in a nightmare world. Something, I don’t know what, makes me think of my childhood; I remember myself as a schoolchild sitting at a hard wooden desk, and then as a little girl with thick, fair, wind-tossed hair, feeding the swans in a park. And it seems both strange and sad to me that all those childish years were

How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it! We've started and won two atomic wars since 2022! Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumors; the world is starving, but we're well fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much? I've heard the

If I can’t be your love, then let me be a simple brooch so I may rest a while against your chest. If I can’t be your love, then let me be a forgotten coin so I may rest a while against your thigh. If I can’t be your love, then let me be an unlit cigarette so I may rest a while in between your lips. If I can’t be your love, then let me at least remain in these words so I may rest a while in your thoughts.

Soiled, forgotten coats of arms were carved above their massive doorways, and these unsettled Ted: such universal, defining symbols made meaningless by nothing more than time.

These are the few ways we can practice humility:To speak as little as possible of one's self.To mind one's own business.Not to want to manage other people's affairs.To avoid curiosity.To accept contradictions and correction cheerfully.To pass over the mistakes of others.To accept insults and injuries.To accept being slighted, forgotten and disliked.To be kind and gentle even under provocation.Never to stand on one's dignity.To choose always the hardest.

There was a super-8 steel town somewhere, where all the forgotten things in the cruel world ended up eventually, Mandy was sure of it… this place, she decided, was called Smog City.

Some part of me knew that was important. That once it would have mattered terribly to me.

To be forgotten by the one to whom you never forget is the worst thing ever happens.

I suppose I could understand it if men had simply forgotten unicorns, or if they had changed so that they hated all unicorns now and tried to kill them when they saw them. But not to see them at all, to look at them and see something else-what do they look like to one another, then? What do trees look like to them, or houses, or real horses, or their own children?

Your choices are very essential; without a better choice, you are risking to drive a destination whose name you know, but address you forget!

...in addition to feeling sick and tired and feverish and nauseated, I also felt forgotten. And there was no easy cure for that.

Its really hard to recall the day you became friends with special people.

A breeze, a forgotten summer, a smile, all can fit into a storefront window.

If you often feel alone, ignored, or forgotten, think about this: closing the door and locking yourself in won't change anything—literally and figuratively.

I’m haunted. We all are, I guess. We’re parentless, friendless, unloved, abandoned. The spirits of our deceased emotional anchors and proofs of existence will follow and demean us until we too roam a quiet lifeless world alongside them — unable to speak — our histories written in beach sand.

Where were you when I undressed and told the tales of my day?Where were youwhenI was silent with God in prandial pray?Where were youwhen I recited love poems as I lay?Where were you?

The problem with catching dreams is you forget how truly incredible they are when you live with them everyday.

I'd forgotten about it, and now I forgot it again. There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living.

For a minute, the fantasy frightened her, but ultimately, this fear saved her from feeling alone.

In one creative thought a thousand forgotten nights of love come to life again and fill it with majesty and exaltation. And those who come together in the nights and are entwined in rocking delight perform a solemn task and gather sweetness, depth, and strength for the song of some future poet, who will appear in order to say ecstasies that are unsayable.

The real reason the number of things that are shared via social media every single minute is so astronomical is because, whenever they each do, most users do not share or say something because they believe they have something worth remembering; they do mainly or only because they fear being forgotten.

A lot we have in our head,But things of heart are not yet dead,They have done none, but just fled,Out of us, Forgotten, just been bled..

If you believe our cause so hopeless, why join us?""Because you offered something I had forgotten could be offered, a choice. And I choose to die free.

18. Your life is before you. Be careful of the choices you make now that you could regret later. This regret is the subject of an old poem whose author has been forgotten. I hope you’ll never have reason to apply it to yourself. Across the fields of yesterday, He sometimes comes to me A little lad just back from play— The boy I used to be. He looks at me so wistfully When once he’s crept within; It is as if he hoped to see The man I might have been.

There's nothing special about this place, he thinks. We all forget. Then we forget what we forgot. And that's how we survive.

The only true dead are those who have been forgotten.

It is a valuable thing for an intelligencer to be forgotten.

Nothing brings to life again a forgotten memory like a fragrance.

No sound, once made, is ever truly lost. In electric clouds, all are safely trapped, and with a touch, if we find them, we can recapture those echoes of sad, forgotten wars, long summers, and sweet autumns.

I had seen the few things I cared about forget me seamlessly. I had seen the life I never really fit into heal up around my absence like a wound scabbed over.

I want to believe that memories, even sad and painful ones, should not be forgotten forever.

I hate her." Merlin laughed, tossing the stick down. "Not so. You have forgotten how to love. That's a different sorrow.

You're forgiven."I don't deserve her."But not forgotten," I whisper. She'll never forget what I did. It's not humanly possible. Sometimes I want the impossible. Her expression doesn't change. "My head is undiscriminating with the memories it keeps, but my heart has already forgotten.

The Almost Forgotten Human Language is ‘Feeling.

There now remain only a few books, which they call books of the lesser prophets; and as I have already shown that the greater are impostors, it would be cowardice to disturb the repose of the little ones. Let them sleep, then, in the arms of their nurses, the priests, and both be forgotten together.

In a real love, mistakes are not consider because they are forgiven and forgotten.

A promise is a gift and a gift is a symbol of a social relationship. The donor is aware that it creates a link and the recipient identifies it as a mutual bond. A gift, however, is tangible and a promise is not. Eventually, a promise can be expounded as misunderstood, or misheard or it is simply over and done. If misheard, the social bond is to be put into question. If forgotten, it can be reminded but this is embarrassing. If elapsed, it is one of those broken promises that infest countless rel

A college provides a means of accrediting and laundering one’s existence, so that what was may be forgotten under the weight of something far more mundane.

She wanted to be remembered for doing something great. And her greatest fear was of being completely forgotten.

That thing, that tiny part of The Land of Elyon, is gone but not entirely forgotten. Elyon had his reason for sending you and me on this journey. Sometimes we see something as plain as a dying leaf and our hearts grow sad, but we must always hold true and fight on, Alexa. Whatever happens to us, we will not be forgotten in the end. He will remember us.

Everyone gets forgotten because of Alzheimer's, ignored because of ignorance about oneself and replaced because of trying to stay in the same place.

Like a forgotten old photograph, this dream will stay pressed, between the pages of a book you don’t feel like reading anymore.

Criticism can never instruct or benefit you. Its chief effect is that of a telegram with dubious news. Praise leaves no glow behind, for it is a writer's habit to remember nothing good of himself. I have usually forgotten those who have admired my work, and seldom anyone who disliked it. Obviously, this is because praise is never enough and censure always too much.

This was the power of the story weaver, Nell realized. An ability to conjure color so that all else seemed to fade.

[She] sees. She knows. She understands. About evil, or whatever you care to name it. It comes. It's relentless. It doesn't care if you forgot it. It searches, and it finds you, and it arrives on your doorstep one day, and it lights up a screen, it calls you by your real name, it smiles at you, it says hello, it eyes your son and promises to take him home.

I left the library. Crossing the street, I was hit head-on by a brutal loneliness. I felt dark and hollow. Abandoned, unnoticed, forgotten, I stood on the sidewalk, a nothing, a gatherer of dust. People hurried past me. and everyone who walked by was happier than I. I felt the old envy. I would have given anything to be one of them.

I was ready to leave with every load, with every worthy individual of respectable appearance hiring a cab; but absolutely nobody invited me, not one; it was as if they had forgotten me, as if I was actually something alien to them!

Madoka: Won't anyone notice that Mami-san is dead?Homura: Mami Tomoe's only relatives are distant relations. It will be quite some time before anyone files a missing persons report. When one dies on that side of the wards, not even a body is left behind. She'll wind up forever a "missing person"... That is what happens to magical girls in the end.Madoka: ...That's too cruel! Mami-san has been fighting all alone for a long time for everyone's sake! For no one to even notice that she's gone... Tha

Human on human crimes should never be forgotten, or dismissed by time. We are all related here and are linked by spirit.

And so to tame Christmas we spin myths to temper the story, we create our own caricatures to speak our own lines into the script, we gift ourselves to enhance an adventure now lagging, and we think we’re on a grand adventure when we’ve completely forgotten what an adventure is.

Justice DeniedThousands of women, probably moreI cannot reach them behind justice doorsMany stay silent, barred just like me.Haunted by demons, faces unseen.Still by the hundreds, they continue to serveDuty and country, active and reserve.Thankless, forgotten through America's warsScarred like their brethren, treated as foes.Volunteered to go to the shores.Died like the others, shamed to the core.Where is the dignity, long since denied? Lost in the White House of Justice DeniedWomen in service s

Painful experiences are like scars in our minds. Some have healed and been forgotten. Others are there as a reminder of what we have been through…

People always talk about how hard it can be to remember things - where they left their keys, or the name of an acquaintance - but no one ever talks about how much effort we put into forgetting. I am exhausted from the effort to forget... There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living.

Dementia: Is it more painful to forget, or to be forgotten?

Make someone feel something and you will never be forgotten.

My students tag tables, walls, and chairs because their greatest fear is that no one will ever remember them. They do not believe they can give impassioned speeches, rally people in protest, paint masterpieces. They think they will die, small and forgotten, and it dictates their every action.

It was like trying to recall a forgotten dream—each time I felt close to remembering where we’d met, the memories slipped away.

Tomorrow is a memory best forgotten.

Forgotten hero was never the real hero, real hero can not be forgotten.

I wondered if there would ever be a day when I didn't think about Alaska, wondered whether I should hope for a time when she would be a distant memory - recalled only on the anniversary of her death, or maybe a couple of weeks after, remembering only after having forgotten.

Sometimes a woman has experienced too much life to have any blush left in her cheeks, but the man who puts it there is someone not easily forgotten.

Nobody had forgotten anything here. In Berlin, you had to wrestle with the past, you had to build on the ruins, inside them. It wasn't like America where we scraped the earth clean, thinking we could start again every time.

Past is always afraid of being forgotten because being forgotten means being never-existed in a way!

Once I embraced the dreams that once inspired. Now I've found that there is too much I didn't recognize as a gift. I may be too late to see, cherish, and endure. I may never change, but be forever stuck in the past without realizing until my eyes open to the sun and I have forgotten the moon.

It’s not a crime to wish for other worlds. You’ll get taxed for it but they can’t throw you in jail for creating your own private world…yet. Dramatics are fun, an indulgence. ‘You can’t go backward,’ ‘You can’t live in the past,’ they tell you. Why not? ‘You’ve got to put all that behind you and move on to other things,’ they say. Bullshit! These are all expressions of modern disposability. It’s a mediocritizing technique—trying to get rid of what I call ‘past orthodoxies.’ It’s our past that ma

For the moment I can think of nothing— except that I am a sentient being stabbed by the miracle of these waters that reflect a forgotten world.

There are many unspeakable words, forgotten, or forbidden.Great thanks to the poets who make them all become reachable.

Even the one moment that you thought was your eternity fades out and is forgotten and dies.

After getting dressed at warp speed, I actually managed to drive all the way to high school before I realized I'd forgotten my morning coffee. Mystery, intrigue, and naked dreams aside, that didn't bode well for my chances at making it through the morning without killing myself. Or someone else.

Every time the long-forgotten people of the past are remembered, they are born again!

A love letter lost in the mail, forgotten, miss delivered and then discovered years later and received by the intended is romantic. A love letter ending up in someone's spam filter is just annoying.

I am everything. I am nothing. I am powerful. I am forgotten.

Secrets are never so dangerous as when they've been forgotten.

Only the forgotten are truly dead.

Find a place forgotten and make it feel that it is remembered! Find someone forgotten and make him feel that he is remembered!

Nobody would have anything to do with him. He began to drop things and to trip. He had a shy and hopeful manner in each new contact, and he was always disappointed. Because he NEEDED a friend so desperately, he never found one.

To forget would mean the things we never knew had never waited to be known, never waitedto be forgotten, had never been; waitingbeneath the long dead starsin time. . .

Forgotten is forgiven.

Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.

Revived in this country the long forgotten beauties of Gothic architecture.

Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.

In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods they have not forgotten this.

My biggest fear in life is to be forgotten.

Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten.

The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.