Literature boils with the madcap careers of writers brought to the edge by the demands of living on their nerves, wringing out their memories and their nightmares to extract meaning, truth, beauty.
He was asking for memories, too young himself to know that memories were only memories of memories.
(pl. ) of Memory
She ordered a martini and encouraged me to, but said she couldn't drink it with her medication. She just liked seeing it in front of her, like the old days, all set to do its little magic.
There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away, but I have the feeling that if I did, the joy would be gone as well.
Maybe the only thing that lasts is our memories of each other...
Some memories made in time will last ages tossed aside.
The ground was silvery, as if some stars had fallen there.
Nothing distinguishes memories from ordinary moments, only later do they make themselves known, from their scars.
In our lives are special moments that live as their own, the rest is movement with the passage of time.
I'm a really nostalgic person. I love taking photos and video and having memories. I remember all my childhood videos that my dad used to take. I think that's really what life is about - especially wh...
Obviously the facts are never just coming at you but are incorporated by an imagination that is formed by your previous experience. Memories of the past are not memories of facts but memories of your...
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.
One's first memories are often vicarious: one is told that one did something or was involved in something; one dramatizes it and folds the image falsely into the annals of the truly remembered.
The termites of reduction have always gnawed away at life: even the greatest love ends up as a skeleton of feeble memories.
Things could change Gabe. Things could be different. I don't know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors. And grandparents. And everybody would have memories...
I answer the heroic question, 'Death, where is thy sting?' with 'It is in my heart and mind and memories.
To invest into a memory that will only take you down a road that cannot be traveled is futile and counter-productive. It takes us away from the here and now, and it only impedes our well-being when we...
Best memories never hurt, with good memories an individual can pass his whole life without depending on others...
Memories shared change. You can add what you learned to the memory and it becomes easier to live with or benefit by.
Memories are like a box full of chocolates, you can't have them all at once.
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