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Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most
beautiful prizes slip through it.
Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most
beautiful prizes slip through it.
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.
But each day brings its petty dust our soon-choked souls to fill, and we forget because we must, and not read more
But each day brings its petty dust our soon-choked souls to fill, and we forget because we must, and not because we will.
The selective memory isn't selective enough.
The selective memory isn't selective enough.
Take only memories, leave nothing but footprints.
Take only memories, leave nothing but footprints.
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.
Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago.
Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago.
Out of sighte, out of mynde.
Out of sighte, out of mynde.
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!
