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Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!
Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!
Our memory is like a shop in the window of which is exposed now one, now another photograph of the read more
Our memory is like a shop in the window of which is exposed now one, now another photograph of the same person. And as a rule the most recent exhibit remains for some time the only one to be seen.
What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching read more
What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my read more
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
He who is not very strong in memory should not meddle with lying.
He who is not very strong in memory should not meddle with lying.
The true art of memory is the art of attention.
The true art of memory is the art of attention.
Every man's memory is his private literature.
Every man's memory is his private literature.
A great many complimentary things have been said about the
faculty of memory, and if you look in a read more
A great many complimentary things have been said about the
faculty of memory, and if you look in a good quotation book you
will find them neatly arranged.
Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
read more
Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
And God within far Heaven refuse to light
The consolation of the dawn for me,--
Between the shadowy burns of Heaven and Hell,
It is enough love leaves my soul to dwell
With memory.
