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Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; awake but one, read more
Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; awake but one, and in, what myriads rise!
Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
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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.
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.
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.
A retentive memory may be a good thing, but the ability to forget is the true token of greatness.
A retentive memory may be a good thing, but the ability to forget is the true token of greatness.
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.
No memory of having starred atones for later disregard, or keeps the end from being hard.
No memory of having starred atones for later disregard, or keeps the end from being hard.
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.
Every man's memory is his private literature.
Every man's memory is his private literature.
