It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe read more

It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe --though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.

Forget those things that aren't worth remembering.

Forget those things that aren't worth remembering.

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!

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.

Every man's memory is his private literature.

Every man's memory is his private literature.

of thought.

of thought.

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.

Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
read more

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.