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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!
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.
The true art of memory is the art of attention.
The true art of memory is the art of attention.
A lot of people mistake a short memory for a clear conscience.
A lot of people mistake a short memory for a clear conscience.
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.
Don't remember what you can infer.
Don't remember what you can infer.
A moment lasts all of a second, but the memory lives on forever.
A moment lasts all of a second, but the memory lives on forever.
The memory represents to us not what we choose but what it pleases.
The memory represents to us not what we choose but what it pleases.
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!
