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?
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The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time.
The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time.
I've never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don't understand people read more
I've never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don't understand people who hide from their past. Everything you live through helps to make you the person you are now.
Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet read more
Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not good enough to recollect how often we have told it to the same person?
I do perceive that the old proverb be not alwaies trew, for I do
finde that the absence of read more
I do perceive that the old proverb be not alwaies trew, for I do
finde that the absence of my Nath, doth breeds in me the more
continuall remembrance of him.
Memory is like an orgasm. It's a lot better if you don't have to fake it.
Memory is like an orgasm. It's a lot better if you don't have to fake it.
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.
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!
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.
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.
