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Memories are all we really own.
Memories are all we really own.
To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.
To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.
Many a man fails as an original thinker simply because his memory it too good.
Many a man fails as an original thinker simply because his memory it too good.
A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.
A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.
Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe, and learn; take a look around you whenever you have time read more
Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe, and learn; take a look around you whenever you have time and never forget everything and every person that has the least place within your heart.
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.
It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, read more
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?
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.
Don't you remember, sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown;
Who wept with read more
Don't you remember, sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown;
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
And trembl'd with fear at your frown!