Quotes about memories

The poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories.

I just have beautiful memories of what has happened in my life.

The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.

Those fields of daisies we landed on, and dusty fields and desert stretches. Memories of many skies and earths beneath us - many days, many nights of stars.

I get some of my ideas from watching my three daughters, but most of them come from my own memories of growing up. I can remember how romantic I was, not just about love, but romance in the classic sense - the romantic ideals: of honor and truth, of loyalty, sacrifice and fairness. Those were the elements that made a story satisfying to me.

Memories are thoughts that arise. They're not realities. Only when you believe that they are real, then they have the power over you. But when you realize it's just another thought arising about the past, then you can have a spacious relationship with that thought. The thought no longer has you in its grip.

The grief of losing my father has come in waves over the years, as it does with most people. His love and devotion as a father provided my closest, most intimate relationship. Dad, and our time together, is in my bones. While reflecting on him, the memories themselves seem to boil down into certain 'essences of Dad.'

I think that my regrets mostly have to do with my relationship with my ex-girlfriend. Every once in a while, you get those flashback memories of conversations you had with your exes, and you just, like, wince when you're walking down the street. Something occurs to you, 'Oh, no, I said that.'

I have great childhood memories cow-tipping, going off and getting lost in the bog for hours, and coming home covered in dirt.

No memory is ever alone; it's at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each have their own associations.

When memories fade, can one ever really return home?

Human memory is a marvelous but fallacious instrument. The memories which lie within us are not carved in stone; not only do they tend to become erased as the years go by, but often they change, or even increase by incorporating extraneous features.

All relationships change the brain - but most important are the intimate bonds that foster or fail us, altering the delicate circuits that shape memories, emotions and that ultimate souvenir, the self.

In one sense, every character you create will be yourself. You've never murdered, but your murderer's rage will be drawn from memories of your own extreme anger. Your love scenes will contain hints of your own past kisses and sweet moments.

I think it's too easy to recount your unhappy memories when you write about yourself. You bask in your own innocence. You revere your grief. You arrange your angers at their most becoming angles.

Memories establish the pastSenses perceive the presentImaginations shape the future.

We spend our lives in the attempt to capture memory forever to capture moments to capture Time itself.

The past is a foreign country they do things differently there.

People have told me, 'My dad passed on, but I have great memories of watching your shows with him.' It doesn't get any better than that.

When I was little, we had a Golden Book that had all these Disney characters in one portrait on the first page. My dad used to read from it every night. We'd play this game of find Pluto or find Donald Duck. He'd read us stories and do all the voices. Those are great memories.

One of my earliest memories is my father telling me to behave because I'm about to meet and work with the greatest actor of all time. Then this old guy comes out and I was like, 'Pfff, he doesn't look anything like Luke Skywalker, I don't know what my dad is trying to tell me here.'

Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.

One of my earliest memories is of my father carrying me in one arm with a picket sign in the other.

My first outdoor cooking memories are full of erratic British summers, Dad swearing at a barbecue that he couldn't put together, and eventually eating charred sausages, feeling brilliant.

My childhood memories are amazing I had freedom in every way - but I see everything from a different perspective now that I live outside.

My dad taught me from my youngest childhood memories through these connections with Aboriginal and tribal people that you must always protect people's sacred status, regardless of the past.

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!

The present moment is changing so fast that we often do not notice its existence at all. Every moment of mind is like a series of pictures passing through a projector. Some of the pictures come from sense impressions. Others come from memories of past experiences or from fantasies of the future.

My own heart is in my characters. My novels are my memories they are the best part of me.

Time can only rob us of the things we can touch it can't rob us of the things we feel.

That's the beautiful thing about innocence even monsters have a pocketful of childhood memories with which to seek comfort with.

The feelings resembled memories but memories of what? Apparently one can remember things that have never happened.

Sometimes moments in life are so perfect you want to freeze frame them capture them within your soul forever so they never fade away—they burn themselves into your being until they’re a part of who you are.

Making sensible choices is short-term thinking they never make for good memories.

Some memories aren’t meant to go down smoothly they’re meant to choke you until you suffocate.

I will be fine as far as the wind will bring me the memories i have spent with you

Your memory is a monster you forget - it doesn't.

Memories hold you back their weight crushes your spirit.

My life will be measured in years his will be measured in memories. I'm determined that whatever time we have together will never fade from his mind.

I try not to remember them but very often memories force themselves on my consciousness they are like stubborn relatives who invite themselves over even when you've made it clear that they are unwelcome.

Create memories forget misery.

The joy is in remembering the pain is in knowing it was yesterday.

The past is only the present become invisible and mute its memoried glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious.

Memories are fragile they can be broken and forgotten or preserved like a tomb.

Memories sharpen the past it is reality that decays.

my mind struggled top condense all that had led to me being here. My vocal cords fought to express the memories that leaked out I felt the weight of it all pressing down on me.

Memory is a time capsule it records the wounds inflicted upon human consciousness.

The way our fingers intertwine feels so natural and right as if our hands hold memories of meeting in a thousand other lifetimes.

The memory of the pain did not destroy the reality of the pleasure grief did not obliterate joy.

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

I am daily learning To be the reluctant guardian of your memoriesThere was light in those eyes I miss that

The Memory Of You Is Like A Drug To Me

You were the hardest year of my life and I’ve never been so happy. What does that say about me?

To be taught what TRUE LOVE is .....also teaches you NEVER TO LOVE AGAIN ...for true love comes once in a lifetime and last for all eternity ~DC~

Not all things can be expressed through words, not all the words reflect the truth.

When you build a house You nail down memories Paint and stain the fabric of time

Even in your pains, troubles or difficulties, create unforgettable memories by putting a smile on the faces of others'.

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 remember softens over time. What you recall is simply that you were happy, not necessarily the individual moments that brought about your joy.But the memory of something painful does just the opposite. It retains its original shape, all bony fingers and pointy elbows. Every time it returns, you get a

Images flicker, each one bringing its own sorrow or its own smile. Sometimes both. At the very worst, an impenetrable and sightless black and at best, a happiness so bright that it hurts the eyes to see, coming and going on some unseen projector perpetually turned by an invisible hand. One, then another. The hollow click of the shutter. Now stop. Freeze this frame. Pluck it down and hold it close and be damned by what you see. Henri always said: the price of a memory is the memory if the sorrow

I think the only answer is to live life to the fullest while you can and collect memories like fools collect money. Because in the end, that's all you have - happy memories.

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 but happiness in his heart.

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 term, I know which will make better memories.

That's the problem with memories: you can visit them, but you can't live in them.

Dreams are hopeful because they exist as pure possibility. Unlike memories, which are fossils, long dead and buried deep.

Times like this were special. Memory builders. When something extraordinary happened to a person the kind of things remembered forever after it didn't have to be a life-changing event like a graduation or marriage or birth of a child. It more often was the small things. The sheer joy of summer sunlight on a fragrant flower. The giggle of a toddler. The brush of a lover's fingertips. And the person marks the moment with the flashing insight thinking... This is special. I should remember this

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 of the night, and how we endedup creating the moon in the confines of our beds.

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

Happiness is not always a reality many times it is in our memory.

Why is it that happiness remembered feels like despair?

It frightens me that I can't do anything sensible about it.""Are you scared that you'll wind up with a boring job where you have to see the same people every day and drink instant coffee?""I'm more scared that I'll forget the feeling I have now.""Kind of like how you forgot how it feels to be three years old.""That surely I'll wind up thinking I was so young, I didn't really understand everything. It bothers me that I know I will be wrong.

He was the most ordinary man in all the world, and yet in her memory he'd become luminous, like the prince in a fairy tale.

He felt like home.

When it seems you are having too much fun, then a switch turns on in your head and makes you think; if only there were a way to take a snapshot of this moment and place it into a mason jar next to some peach preserves. Or, you can just close your eyes and let the joy sink into your psyche. Each, in their own way will last a lifetime." - A.H. Scott 4/29/12

He asked me once what I wanted when I died, what I wanted out of life, and I told him I just wanted more happy memories than sad ones.

Was that the point of suffering: to understand, in some way, what you still had? To clarify it, to rip the stars from the sky and hold them in the hand like diamonds‒to darken all the rest but the most glittering, glad memories? Was that the way to live a sunny life?

Most things are forgotten over time. Even the war itself, the life-and-death struggle people went through is now like something from the distant past. We’re so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about everyday, too many new things we have to learn. But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion,

Isn't it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle--it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key. It's not an act of bitterness. It's an act if self-preservation. It's not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it?

It scares me how hard it is to remember life before you. I can't even make the comparisons anymore, because my memories of that time have all the depth of a photograph. It seems foolish to play games of better and worse. It's simply a matter of is and is no longer.

How do you know when it's over?" "Maybe when you feel more in love with your memories than with the person standing in front of you.

There comes a time in your life when you have to choose to turn the page, write another book or simply close it.

Stephen kissed me in the spring,Robin in the fall,But Colin only looked at meAnd never kissed at all.Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest,Robin’s lost in play,But the kiss in Colin’s eyesHaunts me night and day.

There are memories that time does not erase... Forever does not make loss forgettable, only bearable.

Love is hard to find, hard to keep, and hard to forget.

Sharing tales of those we've lost is how we keep from really losing them.

The worst memories stick with us, while the nice ones always seem to slip through our fingers.

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

I've apparently been the victim of growing up, which apparently happens to all of us at one point or another. It's been going on for quite some time now, without me knowing it. I've found that growing up can mean a lot of things. For me, it doesn't mean I should become somebody completely new and stop loving the things I used to love. It means I've just added more things to my list. Like for example, I'm still beyond obsessed with the winter season and I still start putting up strings of lights

Think of two people, living together day after day, year after year, in this small space, standing elbow to elbow cooking at the same small stove, squeezing past each other on the narrow stairs, shaving in front of the same small bathroom mirror, constantly jogging, jostling, bumping against each other’s bodies by mistake or on purpose, sensually, aggressively, awkwardly, impatiently, in rage or in love – think what deep though invisible tracks they must leave, everywhere, behind them!

Sometimes, remembering hurts too much.

I remember when your name was just another name that rolled without thought off my tongue.Now, I can’t look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each lettter.Your name, which I played with so carelessly, so easily, has somehow become sacred to my lips.A name I won’t throw around lightheartedly or repeat without deep thought.And if ever I speak of you, I use the English language to describe who you were to me. You are nameless, because those letters grouped together in that

No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despairRise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

some winterswill never meltsome summerswill never freezeand some things will only... live in poems.

But that's how memory works," Bitterblue said quietly. "Things disappear without your permission, then come back again without your permission." And sometimes they came back incomplete and warped.

Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.

We live in deeds not years In thoughts not breaths In feelings not figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels noblest, acts the best.

Don't get me wrong, it's a good thing to be remembered. But everyday their memories get fewer, less intense. Certain aspects of the memory will become dishevelled, twisted into a form unrecognisable. Until finally the person still at the centre of your world moves on and all you can do is watch

Standing at the edge of timeAlmost falling down to the dark abyssAs I near the end of mineI reminisce the things I will missThe smiles and laughterRunning around without a careThe time when my grin will never falterBeing so free, willing my soul to bareHeartaches, heartbreaks and tearsNow I know better and to myself I will never lieBecause in woe, I learned to love and never fearThose were the best and worst moments of my lifeAs the memories rush back to meI look down and now I feel relievedBeca

Concepts of memory tend to reflect the technology of the times. Plato and Aristotle saw memories as thoughts inscribed on wax tablets that could be erased easily and used again. These days, we tend to think of memory as a camera or a video recorder, filming, storing, and recycling the vast troves of data we accumulate throughout our lives. In practice, though, every memory we retain depends upon a chain of chemical interactions that connect millions of neurons to one another. Those neurons never