Cute Memory Quotes

Did you just use juxtaposition in a sentence?"
"Yes, Sage" he said patiently. "We use it all the time with art, ... That, and I know how to use a dictionary ~ Richelle Mead

Memory has strange power keeps full data of the past. ~ Kishore Bansal

From the '70s and '80s, the following songs immediately spring to my mind as candidates: "The Battle of Evermore," "Spirit of Eden," "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed," "Close to the Edge," "In Your Eyes," "Thick as a Brick," "Cinema Show," "Echoes," and "The Killing Moon. ~ Bradley J. Birzer

Not knowing trauma or experiencing or remembering it in a dissociative way is not a passive shutdown of perception or of memory. Not knowing is rather an active, persistent, violent refusal; an erasure, a destruction of form and of representation. The fundamental essence of the death instinct, the instinct that destroys all psychic structure is apparent in this phenomenon. . . . The death drive is against knowing and against the developing of knowledge and elaborating [it]. ~ Dori Laub

Now when the flowers are in full bloom,
It is the ashes from the past that hidden loom. ~ Selina A. Mahmood

To remember is to rewrite. To photograph is to replace. The only reliable memories, I suppose, are the ones that have been forgotten. They are the dark rooms of the mind. Unopened, untouched, and uncorrupted. ~ Abby Geni

While one was an undergraduate, one could feel virtuous and indignant at the vices of Oxford, at least at those which one did not indulge in, particularly at the flunkeyism and money-worship which are our most prevalent and disgraceful sins. But when one is a fellow it is quite another affair. They become a sore burthen then, enough to break one's heart. ~ Thomas Hughes

She wore glasses, and I was a sucker for a girl in corrective eyewear. Since I was ugly it was probably some sort of subconscious reaction in the hope that I might have a chance with a cute girl who couldn't see very ~ Larry Correia

Colette," he told her. "I can love Stéphane. I can honor his memory. I can love your parents, and your brother, your uncles, your cousin. I can love them beside you, and I will, if you let me. ~ Julie Berry

A weathered skeleton
in windy fields of memory,
piercing like a knife. ~ Matsuo Basho

I'm horrible at quoting movies! Even my very favorites are not easily recalled or programmed to memory. When people start movie quoting around me, I'm that person who just smiles and then looks up the reference later. ~ Ashley Rickards

He could do with some lunch. Especially since that bastard Sloane gave his Cheesy Doodles away. What kind of guy does that? A bastard, that's who. Did he not respect the male code of honor - thou shalt not steal another dude's snacks?
--Dex ~ Charlie Cochet

And sometimes, when the stars are kind, we read with an intake of breath, with a shudder, as if someone or something had 'walked over our grave,' as if a memory had suddenly been rescued from a place deep within us - the recognition of something we never knew was there, or of something we vaguely felt as a flicker or a shadow, whose ghostly form rises and passes back into us before we can see what it is, leaving us older and wiser. ~ Alberto Manguel

We sat within the farm-house old,
Whose windows, looking o'er the bay,
Gave to the sea-breeze damp and cold,
An easy entrance, night and day.

Not far away we saw the port,
The strange, old-fashioned, silent town,
The lighthouse, the dismantled fort,
The wooden houses, quaint and brown.

We sat and talked until the night,
Descending, filled the little room;
Our faces faded from the sight,
Our voices only broke the gloom.

We spake of many a vanished scene,
Of what we once had thought and said,
And who was changed, and who was dead;

And all that fills the hearts of friends,
When first they feel, with secret pain,
Their lives thenceforth have separate ends,
And never can be one again;

The first slight swerving of the heart,
That words are powerless to express,
And leave it still unsaid in part,
Or say it in too great excess.

The very tones in why we spake,
Had something strange, I could but mark;
The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rattling in the dark.

Oft died the words upon our lips,
As suddenly, from out the fire
Built of the wreck of stranded ships,
The flames would leap and then expire.

And, as their splendor flashed and failed,
We thought of wrecks upon the main,
Of ships dismasted, that were hailed
And sent no answer back again.

The w ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

At that time, a number of myths were created by the young people of the smoking carriages and forests of hallucinogenic mushrooms, the hungry for the thirst of lysergic acid, who were too tired of the suffering they grew up in and needed to take refuge in dreams. In these children's universe there were unbelievable stories about places in the mountains that women sought to retreat to, places where people were united by music and love for a mutual spiritual growth. For Aunt Jeanine, who had grown up with the image of her father, an amputee due to the war, feeding on such stories was like a haven, one she would later try to turn into her home. And one of those stories, one particular one, stood in her memory until the last stage of her life, when she passed away at eighty-one, burned with fire. (...) At that time, kid, they said that if we searched enough, we would find a place where the world wouldn't end. Men would never know what hell of a place that was, totally unconquerable! A place where the dirty hands of men would never arrive. A place men would never know about . Don't you think I could find it? To have my body disappearing in the woods, as I saw happening to kids in Japan, in that forest that swallows them to its core. Flesh turned to powder, my essence disappearing in the middle of life. They said that, when you die at a place, you'll stay at that place forever. That was why everyone was afraid to go to war. They weren't afraid of dying, kid, they were afraid of dyi ~ Pat R

Now, since the self is constantly thinking numerous things, since it is nothing more than the thoughts of these things, when by chance, instead of having them as the objects of its attention, it suddenly turns its thoughts upon itself, it finds only an empty apparatus, something unfamiliar, to which, in order to give it some reality - it adds the memory of a face seen in a mirror. ~ Marcel Proust

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.
The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Cute" is one of those words people use when they know you're smart enough to realize "you've got so much personality" means "you're ugly. ~ Elizabeth Scott

MY GOD!' read Monte Cristo, 'LET ME KEEP MY MEMORY! ~ Alexandre Dumas

Psychological abuse is.. the sustained, repetitive, inappropriate behavior which damages or substantially reduces the creative and developmental potential of crucially important mental faculties and mental processes of a child, including intelligence, memory, recognition, perception, attention, imagination, and moral development. ~ Kieran O'Hagan

I loved Reva, but I didn't like her anymore. We'd been friends since college, long enough that all we had left in common was our history together, a complex circuit of resentment, memory, jealousy, denial, and a few dresses I'd let Reva borrow, which she'd promised to dry clean and return but never did. ~ Ottessa Moshfegh

Signs imply ways of living, possibilities of existence, they are the symptoms of an overflowing (jaillissante) or exhausted (épuisée) life. But an artist cannot be content with an exhausted life, nor with a personal life. One does not write with one's ego, one's memory, and one's illnesses. In the act of writing there's an attempt to make life something more personal, to liberate life from what imprisons it...There is a profound link between signs, the event, life, and vitalism. It is the power of nonorganic life, that which can be found in a line of a drawing, a line of writing, a line of music. It is organisms that die, not life. There is no work of art that does not indicate an opening for life, a path between the cracks. Everything I have written has been vitalistic, at least I hope so, and constitutes a theory of signs and the event. ~ Gilles Deleuze

And you might think a name is just a name, nothing but a word, but that is not the case. Your name is tacked to you. Where it has joined you, it has seeped into your skin and into your essence and into your soul. So when they plucked my name from me with their spell, it was as heavy as a rock in their hands but as invisible as the wind, and it wasn't just the memory of my name, but me myself. A tiny part of me that they took and stored away. ~ Karen Foxlee

Lest things worthy of remembrance should perish with time, and fall away from the memory of those who come after us, I, seeing these many evils, and the whole world lying, as it were, in the wicked one - myself awaiting death among the dead - inter mortuos mortem expectans - as I have truly heard and examined, so I have reduced these things to writing; and lest the writing should perish with the writer, and the work fail together with the workman, I leave parchment for continuing the work, if haply any man survive, and any of the race of Adam escape this pestilence and continue the work which I have begun. ~ S Anthony Barnett

Look under the passenger seat in a black plastic bin. There should be a book."
Raphael hopped out, dug under the seat, and pulled out a dog-eared copy of The Almanac of Mystical Creatures.
"Got it," I said into the phone.
"Page seventy-six."
Raphael flipped the book open and held it up. On the left page a lithograph showed a three-headed dog with a serpent for a tail. The caption under the picture said CERBERUS.
"Is that your dog?" Kate asked.
"Could be. How the heck did you know the exact page?"
"I have perfect memory!"
I snorted.
She sighed into the phone.
"I spilled coffee on that page and had to leave the book open to dry it out. It always opens to that entry now. ~ Ilona Andrews

Why was it that a person could forget a thousand moments over a lifetime but never purge the one memory she truly wanted to forget? ~ Melissa Tagg

Mind is memory, not intelligence. ~ Rajneesh

If we say that monsters [people who do terrible evil] are beyond forgiving, we give them a power they should never have ... they are given the power to keep their evil alive in the hearts of those who suffered most. We give them power to condemn their victims to live forever with the hurting memory of their painful pasts. We give the monsters the last word. ~ Lewis B. Smedes

Please nothing, she's a vicious piranha. She looks all cute and cuddly, then she opens that mouth and lets loose so much venom she could double as a nest of scorpions. (Leo) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

I bet the very first piñata was surprised. "Oh, hey a party! Cool! What's the occa - HEY, WHAT THE HELL, KID? ~ Jessica Park

Sometimes the visionary aspect of any particular day comes to you in the memory of it, or it opens to you over time. ~ Marilynne Robinson

And how do trees register that the warmer days are because of spring and not late summer? The appropriate reaction is triggered by a combination of day length and temperature. Rising temperatures mean it's spring. Falling temperatures mean it's fall. Trees are aware of that as well. And that's why species such as oaks or beeches, which are native to the Northern Hemisphere, adapt to reversed cycles in the Southern Hemisphere if they are exported to New Zealand and planted there. And what this proves as well, by the way, is that trees must have a memory. How else could they inwardly compare day lengths or count warm days? ~ Peter Wohlleben

Wait," Percy said. "So you mean - " "Right," Nico said again. "But it's cool. We're cool. I mean, I see now ... you're cute, but you're not my type." "I'm not your type ... Wait. So - ~ Rick Riordan

You tried to so hard to forget me; you burnt the letters I made. Though my memory has been dying,
I hope the feeling still remains. Will you meet me in the middle someday? ~ Joshua James

Yeah, I know, the Mars thing. I've been meaning to talk to you about that. When did you get the idea it would be cute to carve my dad's cell-phone number on a rock in the middle of Syrtis Major? He hates it when people call me on his phone."
Kit gave Nita a resigned look. "Sorry," he said, "I couldn't resist. ~ Diane Duane

Don't talk to me."
"Why not?"
"Because I want to fix that in my memory for ever. Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret ... ~ J.K. Rowling

Two angels guide
The path of man, both aged and yet young.
As angels are, ripening through endless years,
On one he leans: some call her Memory,
And some Tradition; and her voice is sweet,
With deep mysterious accords: the other,
Floating above, holds down a lamp with streams
A light divine and searching on the earth,
Compelling eyes and footsteps. Memory yields,
Yet clings with loving check, and shines anew,
Reflecting all the rays of that bright lamp
Our angel Reason holds. We had not walked
But for Tradition; we walk evermore
To higher paths by brightening Reason's lamp. ~ George Eliot

Her eyes travel down to where he's gripping the handle of her suitcase. "What're you doing?" she asks, blinking at him.
"You looked like you needed some help."
Hadley just stares at him.
"And this way it's perfectly legal," he adds with a grin. ~ Jennifer E. Smith

Cute accessories always help bring out your outfit and pull it all together. ~ Ciara

I could walk into anyone's home one time and draw a three-dimensional architectural plan of the inside of their home from memory, but I could not add up a column of numbers. ~ Patricia Polacco

Teachers may think they are stuffing minds, but all they are ever affecting is the memory. Nothing can ever be forced into anyone's mind except by brainwashing, which is the very opposite of genuine teaching. ~ Mortimer Adler

I definitely used to lie about my age. I'm from Tennessee and everyone would vacation in Destin, Florida, where there are lots of cute guys. I would go with my older sister and lie about my age to them. ~ Lucy Hale

The folly and the glory of the world ... the wild, the wise and the wicked ... the hero, the madman, the wanderer and the fool ... the earth, the seas, the wild heavens ... are all part of an endless, unfolding tapestry, woven by time and hemmed by memory. ~ Brian Holguin

Did you hear about the recently discovered temple in the Sudan ?"
I stared at him. "Yeah. I'm a regular reader of National Geographic."
Ol' Frankie's brows quirked. "You wield sarcasm, madam, as well as a master swordsman does."
"Gee, thanks." I smiled at him and batted my lashes.
Quit flirting . Patrick flicked the command into my head. He sounded half-annoyed, half-amused.
I'm not flirting.
Quit being cute and likeable.
An impossible request. I've always been too adorable for words. ~ Michele Bardsley

Let yourself feel good again, laugh with friends, have fun. Living your life to the full is not betrayal of a memory but fulfillment of a promise to someone who would want only the best for you. ~ Karen Katafiasz

And he knew that he would never come again, and that lost magic would not come again. Lost now was all of it-the street, the heat, King's Highway, and Tom the Piper's son, all mixed in with the vast and drowsy murmur of the Fair, and with the sense of absence in the afternoon, and the house that waited, and the child that dreamed. And out of the enchanted wood, that thicket of man's memory, Eugene knew that the dark eye and the quiet face of his friend and brother-poor child, life's stranger, and life's exile, lost like all of us, a cipher in blind mazes, long ago-the lost boy was gone forever, and would not return. ~ Thomas Wolfe

No point in describing the office. No point in even allowing the office to even
register on her eyeballs and take up valuable memory space in her brain.
Fluorescent lights and partitions with carpet glued to them. I prefer my carpet
on the floor, thank you. A color scheme. Ergonomic shit. Chicks with
lipstick. Xerox smell. Everything's pretty new, she figures. ~ Neal Stephenson

If it were given to a man to see virtue's reward in the next world, he would occupy his intellect, memory and will in nothing but good works, careless of danger or fatigue. ~ John Of The Cross

Hi Wankershim! Are you going to doodie? WHOAAAA! ~ Breehn Burns