Memories Quotes - Page 34

• Sometimes I used to think that one day i should wake up, and all that had been would be over. forgotten, sunk, drowned. Nothing was sure - not even memory.

  Erich Maria Remarque

  Thinking, One Day, Would Be

  Erich Maria Remarque (1937). “Three Comrades”

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• People parted, years passed, they met again- and the meeting proved no reunion, offered no warm memories, only the acid knowledge that time had passed and things weren't as bright or attractive as they had been.

  Jacqueline Susann

  Years, People, Acid

  Jacqueline Susann (2015). “Valley of the Dolls”, p.388, Tiger LLC

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• Memory is like fiction; or else it's fiction that's like memory.

  Haruki Murakami

  Fiction

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• Heaven opened and the water hammered down, reviving the reluctant old well, greenmossing the pigless pigsty, carpet bombing still, tea-colored puddles the way memory bombs still, tea-colored minds.

  Arundhati Roy

  Water, Heaven, Tea

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• It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that it purloined. Over the years, as the memory of Sophie Mol ... slowly faded, the Loss of Sophie Mol grew robust and alive. It was always there. Like a fruit in season. Every season. As permanent as a government job.

  Arundhati Roy

  Jobs, Loss, Government

  Arundhati Roy (2002). “The God of Small Things”, p.16, Penguin Books India

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• But the thing about remembering is that you don't forget. You take your material where you find it, which is in your life, at the intersection of past and present. The memory-traffic feeds into a rotary up on your head, where it goes in circles for a while, then pretty soon imagination flows in and the traffic merges and shoots off down a thousand different streets. As a writer, all you can do is pick a street and go for the ride, putting things down as they come at you. That's the real obsession. All those stories.

  Tim O'Brien

  Real, Past, Circles

  Tim O'Brien (2009). “The Things They Carried”, p.33, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Sometimes it is harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure and the memory so possessed him that for the moment there was nothing to do but to pretend.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Pain, Sometimes, Moments

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2013). “Three Novels: Tender is the Night; The Beautiful and Damned; Thi”, p.171, Simon and Schuster

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• I know a lot about when I was a little girl, because my sister used to keep a diary. Today I keep her diary in a drawer next to by bed. I like to see how her memories were the same as mine, but also different.

  Cynthia Kadohata

  Girl, Bed, Different

  Cynthia Kadohata (2008). “Kira-Kira”, p.2, Simon and Schuster

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• He knew the world and its absurdities as only an intelligent Irishman can; which is to say that where his knowledge or memory failed him, his imagination was always ready to fill the gap.

  John Fowles

  Intelligent, Imagination, World

  JOHN FOWLES “THE FRENCH LIEUTENANT'S WOMAN”

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• Memories are worse than bullets.

  Carlos Ruiz Zafon

  Bullets

  Carlos Ruiz Zafon (2005). “The Shadow of the Wind”, p.407, Penguin

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• Wars have no memory, and nobody has the courage to understand them until there are no voices left to tell what happened.

  Carlos Ruiz Zafon

  War, Voice, Happened

  "The Shadow of the Wind". Book by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, 2001.

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• What he wanted was not just to hear about Hailsham, but to remember Hailsham, just like it had been his own childhood. He knew he was close to completing and so that's what he was doing: getting me to describe things to him, so they'd really sink in, so that maybe during those sleepless nights, with the drugs and the paint and the exhaustion, the line would blur between what were my memories and what were his.

  Kazuo Ishiguro

  Night, Childhood, Drug

  Kazuo Ishiguro (2009). “Never Let Me Go”, p.5, Faber & Faber

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• She wasn't happy, but then she wasn't unhappy. She wasn't anything. But I don't believe anyone is a nothing. There has to be something inside, if only to keep the skin from collapsing. This vacant eye, listless hand, this damask cheek dusted like a doughnut with plastic powder, had to have a memory or a dream.

  John Steinbeck

  Dream, Believe, Eye

  John Steinbeck (1980). “Travels with Charley in Search of America”, p.29, Penguin

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• Even as a kid, my memories are of books taking me out of myself.

  Oprah Winfrey

  Book, Kids

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• When something is bothering me, I seek refuge. No need to travel far; a trip to the realm of literary memory will suffice. For where can one find more noble distraction, more entertaining company, more delightful enchantment than in literature?

  Muriel Barbery

  Enchantment, Needs, Noble

  Muriel Barbery (2013). “The Elegance of the Hedgehog”, p.96, Gallic Books

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• I sip my coffee. I look at the mountain, which is still doing its tricks, as you look at a still-beautiful face belonging to a person who was once your lover in another country years ago: with fond nostalgia, and recognition, but no real feelings save a secret astonishment that you are now strangers. Thanks. For the memories. It is ironic that the one thing that all religions recognize as separating us from our creator--our very self-consciousness--is also the one thing that divides us from our fellow creatures. It was a bitter birthday present from evolution, cutting us off at both ends.

  Annie Dillard

  Beautiful, Country, Real

  Annie Dillard (2011). “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek”, p.80, Hymns Ancient and Modern Ltd

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• The memory has as many moods as the temper, and shifts its scenery like a diorama.

  George Eliot

  Mood, Scenery, Temper

  George Eliot (2005). “Four Novels of George Eliot”, p.722, Wordsworth Editions

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• All that he had of her was his memory, where he held every moment, every single moment that she had been his. That was all he had, to keep out the loneliness.

  Juliet Marillier

  Loneliness, Moments

  Juliet Marillier (2010). “Daughter of the Forest: Book One of the Sevenwaters Trilogy”, p.430, Macmillan

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• My body Healed quickly. But the wound to my psyche was deep. Wide. First aid, too little, too late, left me hemorrhaging inside, the blood unstaunched by psychological bandage or love's healing magic. Eventually it scabbed over, a thick, ugly welt of memory. I work to conceal it, but no matter how hard I try, once in a while something makes me pick at it until the scarring bleeds. In my arms, Ashante cries, innocence ripped apart by circumstance. Bloodied by inhuman will. Time will prove a tourniquet. But she will always be at risk of infection. (124)

  Ellen Hopkins

  Healing, Blood, Risk

  Ellen Hopkins (2013). “Fallout”, p.124, Simon and Schuster

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• Alice! A childish story take,
  And with a gentle hand,
  Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
  In Memory's mystic band,
  Like pilgrim's withered wreath of flowers
  Plucked in far-off land.

  Lewis Carroll

  Dream, Flower, Hands

  Lewis Carroll (2012). “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and What the Tortoise Said to Achilles and Other Riddles”, p.10, Graphic Arts Books

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• I'll just tell you what I remember because memory is as close as I've gotten to building my own time machine.

  Samantha Hunt

  Machines, Remember, Building

  Samantha Hunt (2009). “The Invention of Everything Else”, p.248, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• I know my head isn't screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closest is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them.

  Laurie Halse Anderson

  Mistake, Hands, Guilt

  Laurie Halse Anderson (2011). “Speak”, p.51, Macmillan

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• … she gave me a look that deftly combined tenderness with revulsion. To this day the memory of that look still visits me like a Jehovah’s Witness: uninvited and tireless.

  Steve Toltz

  Jehovah, Looks, Revulsion

  Steve Toltz (2008). “A fraction of the whole”

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• Let the past be content with itself, for man needs forgetfulness as well as memory

  James Stephens

  Past, Men, Needs

  James Stephens (2015). “Irish Fairy Tales”, p.8, Booklassic

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• I do not know what you are supposed to do with memories likes these. It feels wrong to want to forget. Perhaps this is why we write these things down, so we can move on.

  Lloyd Jones

  Moving, Writing, Why We Write

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