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.

But woe to him, who left to moan,
Reviews the hours of brightness gone.

But woe to him, who left to moan,
Reviews the hours of brightness gone.

A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.

A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.

What we learn with pleasure we never forget.

What we learn with pleasure we never forget.

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.

A man of great memory without learning hath a rock and a spindle and no staff to spin.

A man of great memory without learning hath a rock and a spindle and no staff to spin.

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, read more

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment -- but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?

Don't you remember, sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown;
Who wept with read more

Don't you remember, sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown;
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
And trembl'd with fear at your frown!

Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.

Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.