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Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
The true art of memory is the art of attention.
The true art of memory is the art of attention.
To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.
To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.
No memory is ever alone; it's at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each have read more
No memory is ever alone; it's at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each have their own associations.
Many a man fails to become a thinker only because his memory is too good.
Many a man fails to become a thinker only because his memory is too good.
Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands,
And many friends I've met;
Not one fair scene or read more
Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands,
And many friends I've met;
Not one fair scene or kindly smile
Can this fond heart forget.
Many a man fails as an original thinker simply because his memory it too good.
Many a man fails as an original thinker simply because his memory it too good.
Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things.
[Lat., Memoria est thesaurus omnium rerum e custos.]
Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things.
[Lat., Memoria est thesaurus omnium rerum e custos.]
It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe read more
It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe --though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.
