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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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.
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.
A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.
A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.
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.
Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.
Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.
Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot read more
Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.
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.]
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.
The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, read more
The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And all that thou hast done for me!
