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.

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.

I do perceive that the old proverb be not alwaies trew, for I do
finde that the absence of read more

I do perceive that the old proverb be not alwaies trew, for I do
finde that the absence of my Nath, doth breeds in me the more
continuall remembrance of him.

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things read more

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee.

What we learn with pleasure we never forget.

What we learn with pleasure we never forget.

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.

Memories are all we really own.

Memories are all we really own.

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.

When promise and patience are wearing thin,
When endurance is almost driven in,
When our angels stand read more

When promise and patience are wearing thin,
When endurance is almost driven in,
When our angels stand in a waiting hush,
Remember the Marne and Ferdinand Foch.