All Quotes By Tag: Memories
“When I was with him suddenly I wasn’t this broken person anymore.I was just me.I was whole again.I was just a person – like everyone else.”
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“I still remember that feeling of walking somewhere confidently, seeing him mid stride and putting my foot down just fine… but feeling like I stumbled.”
“I’d never dreamed anybody could love me the way he did. And even when he proved it to me time and again – I still could hardly believe it was true.”
“He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.”
“It’s the intricate details you miss the most. For me, it’s the soft lines around the eyes when he smiles… Or that look he gave me sometimes that I cannot begin to describe – but I would know it if I saw it again.It was the look that gave him away.I’d know that look anywhere…It used to be my everything.”
“Every quote, every book, every film seemed to suggest that ‘one day’ someone would come into my life and love me with an intensity and a passion I had never experienced before. And to their credit they were right; It all came and went so fast it really did feel as if it were just ‘one day’….”
“If you take society’s definition of knowing oneself, you will become lost in the many translations.”
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“Your actions show what you know, and your replies to obstacles give clarity into what you will learn.”
“It is good to accumulate wealth, but it is great to create unforgettable memories.”
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“I answer the heroic question, ‘Death, where is thy sting?’ with ‘It is in my heart and mind and memories.”
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“Only In SleepOnly in sleep I see their faces,Children I played with when I was a child,Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,Annie with ringlets warm and wild.Only in sleep Time is forgotten –What may have come to them, who can know?Yet we played last night as long ago,And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair.The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces,I met their eyes and found them mild –Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder,And for them am I too a child?”
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“A Hard Life With MemoryI’m a poor audience for my memory.She wants me to attend her voice nonstop,but I fidget, fuss,listen and don’t,step out, come back, then leave again.She wants all my time and attention.She’s got no problem when I sleep.The day’s a different matter, which upsets her.She thrusts old letters, snapshots at me eagerly,stirs up events both important and un-,turns my eyes to overlooked views,peoples them with my dead.In her stories I’m always younger.Which is nice, but why always the same story.Every mirror holds different news for me.She gets angry when I shrug my shoulders.And takes revenge by hauling out old errors,weighty, but easily forgotten.Looks into my eyes, checks my reaction.Then comforts me, it could be worse.She wants me to live only for her and with her.Ideally in a dark, locked room,but my plans still feature today’s sun,clouds in progress, ongoing roads.At times I get fed up with her.I suggest a separation. From now to eternity.Then she smiles at me with pity,since she knows it would be the end of me too.”
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“Those who live in memories are never really dead.”
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“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 it always this way? Did those with passage booked on death’s silent ship always scan the dock for faces of the long-departed?”
“Oh, but once my memories had pulsed with the blood-heat of life. In desperation, I forced myself to recall that once, I had walked with kings and conversed in languages never heard in this land. Once I had stood at the prow of a Sea Wolf ship and sailed oceans unknown to seamen here. I had ridden horses through desert lands, and dined on exotic foods in Arab tents. I had roamed Constantinople’s fabled streets, and bowed before the Holy Roman Emperor’s throne. I had been a slave, a spy, a sailor. Advisor and confidant of lords, I had served Arabs, Byzantines, and barbarians. I had worn captive’s rags, and the silken robes of a Sarazen prince. Once I had held a jeweled knife and taken a life with my own hand. Yes, and once I had held a loving woman in my arms and kissed her warm and willing lips…Death would have been far, far better than the gnawing, aching emptiness that was now my life.”
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