Quotes About Remembering Your Hometown
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If you remember yourself, you will remember me. I am always a part of you. I am your mother. ~ Emma Michaels
At the end of life, at the end of YOUR life, what essence emerges? What have you filled the world with? In remembering you, what words will others choose? ~ Amy Krouse Rosenthal
What happens to a marriage? A persistent failure of kindness, triggered at first, at least in my case, by the inequities of raising children, the sacrifices that take a woman by surprise and that she expects to be matched by her mate but that biology ensures cannot be. Anything could set me off. Any innocuous habit or slight or oversight. The way your father left the lights of the house blazing, day and night. The way he could become so distracted at work that sometimes when I called, he'd put me on hold and forget me, only remembering again when I'd hung up and called back. The way he wore his pain so privately, whistling around the house after we'd had a spat, pretending nonchalance, protecting you and your sisters from discord, hiding behind his good nature, inadvertently ~ Jan Ellison
Falling in love, we said; I fell for him. We were falling women. We believed in it, this downward motion: so lovely, like flying, and yet at the same time so dire, so extreme, so unlikely. God is love, they once said, but we reversed that, and love, like heaven, was always just around the corner. The more difficult it was to love the particular man beside us, the more we believed in Love, abstract and total. We were waiting, always, for the incarnation. That word, made flesh.
And sometimes it happened, for a time. That kind of love comes and goes and is hard to remember afterwards, like pain. You would look at the man one day and you would think, I loved you, and the tense would be past, and you would be filled with a sense of wonder, because it was such an amazing and precarious and dumb thing to have done; and you would know too why your friends had been evasive about it, at the time.
There is a good deal of comfort, now, in remembering this. ~ Margaret Atwood
He felt that he had unwittingly stuck his hand into The Great Wasps' Nest of Life. As an image it stank. As a cameo of reality, he felt it was serviceable. He had stuck his hand through some rotted flashing in high summer and that hand and his whole arm had been consumed in holy, righteous fire, destroying conscious thought, making the concept of civilized behaviour obsolete. Could you be expected to behave as a thinking human being when your hand was being impaled on red-hot darning needles? Could you be expected to live in the love of your nearest and dearest when the brown, furious cloud rose out of the hole in the fabric of things (the fabric you thought was so innocent) and arrowed straight at you? Could you be held responsible for your own actions as you ran crazily about on the sloping roof seventy feet above he ground, not knowing where you were going, not remembering that your panicky, stumbling feet could lead you crashing and blundering right over the rain gutter and down to your death on the concrete seventy feet below? Jack didn't think you could. When you unwittingly stuck your hand into the wasps' nest, you hadn't made a covenant with the devil to give up your civilized self with its trappings of love and respect and honour. It just happened to you. Passively, with no say, you ceased to be a creature of the mind and became a creature of the nerve endings; from college-educated man to wailing ape in five seconds. ~ Stephen King
Because you deserve a duke, damn it!" A troubled expression furrowed his brow. "You deserve a man who can give you the moon. I can't. I can give you a decent home in a decent part of town with decent people, but you…" His voice grew choked. "You're the most amazing woman I've ever known. It destroys me to think of what you'll have to give up to be with me."
"I told you before-I don't care!" she said hotly. "Why can't you believe me?"
He hesitated a long moment. "The truth?"
"Always."
"Because I can't imagine why you'd want me when you have men of rank and riches at your fingertips."
She gave a rueful laugh. "You grossly exaggerate my charms, but I can't complain. It's one of many things I adore about you-that you see a better version of me than I ever could." Remembering the wonderful words he'd said last night when she'd been so self-conscious, she left the bed to walk up to him. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?"
His wary gaze locked with hers. "Proper Pinter. Proud Pinter."
"Yes, but that's just who you show to the world to protect yourself." She reached up to stroke his cheek, reveling in the ragged breath that escaped him. "When you let down your guard, however, I see Jackson-who ferrets out the truth, no matter how hard. Who risks his own life to protect the weak. Who'd sacrifice anything to prevent me from having to sacrifice everything."
Catching her hand, he halted its path. "You see a saint," he said hoarsely. "I'm n ~ Sabrina Jeffries
I can reveal to you that I wished to die -
For with much weeping she left me
Saying: "Sappho - what suffering is ours!
For it is against my will that I leave you."
In answer, I said: "Go, happily remembering me
For you know what we shared and pursued -
If not, I wish you to see again our [ former joys ] ...
The many braids of rose and violet you [ wreathed ]
Around yourself at my side
And the many garlands of flowers
With which you adorned your soft neck:
With royal oils from [ fresh flowers ]
You anointed [ yourself ]
And on soft beds fulfilled your longing
[ For me ] ... ~ Sappho
Anybody can make something up and have it sound believable. The hard part is remembering all the lies you've told, and all the people you've told them to, and then living the lies that have become your life. ~ Paul Neilan
Nashville is a lot like my hometown. You learn so quickly once someone hears something about you or sees something, everybody talks about it at dinner. They know your business, so people tend to be more private and not to throw themselves into everyone's faces. ~ Garrett Hedlund
I'm vaguely aware of the sound of approaching footsteps, but it takes me a second to make the connection--to remember why I'd come out here in the first place.
"Jemma?"
Damn. I sit up and pull the earbuds from my ears, swinging my legs over the side of the table.
"Figured I'd find you out here," Ryder says, drawing up beside me.
I decide to act surprised. "What are you doing here?"
His brow creases. "I told you I was coming, remember?"
"Oh. Right."
"By the way, you might want to call your parents and tell 'em where you are."
I shrug. "Did you see Nan?"
"Yeah. She looks okay, considering she just had brain surgery. She's awfully quiet, though."
"It's better when she's quiet," I mutter, remembering the way she yelled at me for not plumping her pillow just so after dinner. "Trust me. ~ Kristi Cook
Forgiving is not forgetting; its actually remembering
remembering and not using your right to hit back. Its a second chance for a new beginning. And the remembering part is particularly important. Especially if you dont want to repeat what happened. ~ Desmond Tutu
It is easier to bear the worries of wandering than to find peace in your hometown, where only the sage can live in a happy house surrounded by trite troubles and daily distractions. ~ Hermann Hesse
People really are looking for this perfect sort of dream person, but it's hard to go out every night or make the effort to meet people in your hometown, if you haven't already met them all. Online there's this infinite possibility of meeting this person who, no matter where they live, you're meant to be with. ~ Nev Schulman
If you did go to high school and then college, there's definitely a solidarity with someone that is from your hometown and knows your mom and all that stuff. ~ John Krasinski
To the members of my family who are no longer with us, I'd like to say I'm sorry. There is a quote by Stephen Dunn I've always loved; he says, "Our parents died at least twice, the second time when we forgot their stories." I hope by remembering your stories, the good and the bad, you can forgive me for sharing parts of your lives you may have wished to have kept private. ~ Kenny Porpora
Our love was dangerous.
It was asking me to come with him.
It was "South it is, brown eyes."
It was dancing in the rain on the hood of his car.
It was making dents that only we knew.
It was living in the moment and making memories and deals.
It was being in love and having your heart ripped from your chest. Here you take it, I don't want it anymore. It was that kind of shit.
It was "Please don't do this, not here."
It was here now, listen to me.
It was waiting, I water, and we waited. Nothing.
It was remembering every detail, everything that made him Dylan Wade and remembering nothing at all. ~ Shey Stahl
It should also be pointed out that some of the strains of smart mice were exceptionally timid compared to normal mice. Some suspect that, if your memory becomes too great, you also remember all the failures and hurts as well, perhaps making you hesitant. So there is also a potential downside to remembering too much. ~ Michio Kaku
Do they really help? It's just a few pictures in an album in your head, after all. In between those scenes you do remember there are hundreds, thousands, of scenes you've forgotten. So are you remembering the truth? ~ Asa Larsson
The people like me, finally, after years and years of agitation, made deeply moving and eloquent speeches against the wrongness of your domination over us, and then finally, after the mutilated bodies of you, your wife, and your children were found in your beautiful and spacious bungalow at the edge of your rubber plantation - found by one of your many house servants (none of it was ever yours; it was never, ever yours) - you say to me, "Well, I wash my hands of all of you, I am leaving now," and you leave, and from afar you watch as we do to ourselves the very things you used to do to us. And you might feel that there was more to you than that, you might feel that you had understood the meaning of the Age of Enlightenment (though, as far as I can see, it had done you very little good); you loved knowledge, and wherever you went you made sure to build a school, a library (yes, and in both of these places you distorted or erased my history and glorified your own). But then again, perhaps as you observe the debacle in which I now exist, the utter ruin that I say is my life, perhaps you are remembering that you had always felt people like me cannot run things, people like me will never grasp the idea of Gross National Product, people like me will never be able to take command of the thing the most simpleminded among you can master, people like me will never understand the notion of rule by law, people like me cannot really think in abstractions, people like me cannot be objectiv ~ Jamiaca Kincaid
It's worth remembering that for any change to happen in your life, you must be wrong about something. If you're sitting there, miserable day after day, then that means you're already wrong about something major in your life, and until you're able to question yourself to find it, nothing will change. ~ Mark Manson
How many words grace the pages of this book!
They are supposed to bestir memory. As if words could remember!
For words are miserable mountain climbers and miserable miners of meaning. They do not retrieve the hidden treasures from the heights or dredge them from the depths!
But there is a living commemoration that softly strokes everything worthy of remembering with its caress. And when a red-hot flame leaps forth, poignant and piercing, from such retrospective ash, and you fix your gaze upon it, as if gripped by its magic spell, then...
But how with a shaky hand and coarse writing instrument can one possibly inscribe oneself in such pure remembrance, other than to stain these white unassuming pages? ~ Franz Kafka
Here's how you think about it: Together you constructed many things throughout your life. Then her body disappeared, but the constructions still remain. Human beings die: That's natural. But to accept her death is to lose all hope. ~ Michael Paterniti
the hardest part of existing without your loved ones was remembering how to breathe. He ~ Brittainy C. Cherry
My queen? You have a strange look in your eyes. Are you unwell?
I was just ... remembering. ~ George R R Martin
Forgiving is not forgetting. It is actually remembering - remembering and not using your right to hit back ~ Archbishop Desmont Tutu
We know about your presence that fills the world, that occupies our life, that makes our life in the world true and good. We notice your powerful transformative presence in word and in sacrament, in food and in water, in gestures of mercy and practices of justice, in gentle neighbors and daring gratitude. We count so on your presence and then plunge - without intending - into your absence. We find ourselves alone, abandoned, without resources remembering your goodness, hoping your future, but mired in anxiety and threat and risk beyond our coping. In your absence we bid your presence, come again, come soon, come here: Come to every garden become a jungle Come to every community become joyless sad and numb. We acknowledge your dreadful absence and insist on your presence. Come again, come soon. Come here. ~ Walter Brueggemann
Just say it, she thought. Say what everyone in this bunker is thinking. Say what we all know to be true. The truth that we are all going to die down here, and death is the end. Nobody wakes up to a heaven or paradise. Your life will be gone. You will be gone. Forever. Uncover the truth. Tear off the bandages of delusion. Open your hearts and minds to the real world. We were doomed the day we were born. We lived and we will die and the only immortals are the people who did something worth remembering while they lived. My genetics are prime. I am pleasing to the eyes of man and machine. A dripping fountain of pleasure. Their organic sanctuary. And in time? Aging. Fading. Graying. What am I? Who am I? What makes me human? Emotions? My conscience? The soul is an old testament myth. No one shall ascend anywhere except into annihilation. The dust of earth and stars are the only eternals, she said. ~ C.J. Anderson
I have lived a big life. For that I am grateful.
But as one disengages from it and grows more reflective and less involved in the day-to-day grind, I think it's possible to discover wisdom, born of experience and thankfulness. You must " swallow the shadow" i.e. the fear of death. You must let go of the image of the fit-body and the triumph of your ego-place in the overculture.
I think, if you can do that, this "good age" as I like to call it, can be full of radiant inspiration and tender memory. For in all it's contradiction, somewhere, in the puzzle of life, is incredible beauty. And who does not want to know beauty through their remembering? ~ David Paul Kirkpatrick
Activate yourself to duty by remembering your position, who you are, and what you have obliged yourself to be. ~ Thomas A Kempis
What shop did this book come from? she asked. Her father was looking worried at the cooker. He always got rice wrong. I don't know, Brooksie, he said, I don't remember. That was unimaginable, not remembering where a book has come from! and where it was bought from! That was part of the whole history, the whole point, of any book that you owned! And when you picked it up later in the house at home, you knew, you just knew by looking and having it in your hand, where it came from and where you got it and when and why you'd decided to buy it. ~ Ali Smith
It seems like it's all just remembering and forgetting. Things happen so fast, and then they're gone before you notice them. Events ambush you from out of nowhere, blindside you, and then you have to spend the time afterward trying to remember or forget what the hell it all was to begin with. The more you think about it, the more the events crumble, crack, breakdown, or refuse to change at all. They're either pieces of ice in your hand, changing shape and melting away until they're nothing like what they were to begin with, or pieces of glass. Sharp and irritating, unchanging reminders of pain and unpleasantness - or happiness. ~ Gregory Galloway
What folly made young people, even those in middle age, think they were immortal? How much better, their lives, if they could remember the end. Carrying your death with you every day would make it hard to waste time on unkindness and anger and bitterness, on anything petty. That was the secret: remembering your dying time, in order to keep the stupid and the ugly out of your living time. ~ Rohinton Mistry
When your heart knows the truth, it never forgets. ~ Shannon L. Alder
Does it matter?
losing your legs? ...
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show that you mind
When the others come in after football
To gobble their muffins and eggs.
Does it matter?
losing your sight? ...
There's such splendid work for the blind;
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering
And turning your face to the light.
Do they matter?
those dreams from the pit? ...
You can drink and forget and be glad,
And people won't say that you're mad;
For they'll know that you've fought for your country,
And no one will worry a bit. ~ Siegfried Sassoon
No cowardice, and no remembering your children,
how they were your dears, or how you gave them birth.
Instead for this one fleeting day forget that they are yours,
and afterward take time to grieve.
Although it's you who's killing them
they were your lovely babes.
And I'm a woman made of sorrow. ~ Euripides
I squinted. "What's that on your hand, Barrons? Blood?" He started, glanced at me, then at his hand. "Ah yes," he said, as if remembering, "I was out for a walk. There was a badly injured dog in the street. I returned it to its owner's shop to die. ~ Karen Marie Moning
I'm really not hungry," she repeated, lifting the coffee cup and inhaling the fragrant steam before sipping.
"Just a few bites," he cajoled, taking his own place beside her. "You need to keep up your strength for tonight."
She gave him a heated, slumberous look, remembering her fantasy. "Why? Are you planning something special?"
"I suppose I am," he said consideringly. "It's special every time we make love. ~ Linda Howard
I know everything I need to know about you," she countered, taken aback.
"You do?" he asked, and peered at her, eyes intent. "You do, You have that look in your eyes from the forest, when you called me a monster."
He came within a meter or two of Rey, and she wondered what would happen if she refused to move and they intersected. Would she find herself in his mind again, and have to endure his presence in hers? Could they actually touch, across a galaxy?
"You are a monster," Rey said, remembering the terror of her paralysis on Takodana.
She stared back at him -- and found his. eyes full of hurt. Hurt -- and conflict.
"Yes, I am," Kylo said, and there was no menace in his voice -- only misery. ~ Jason Fry
Remembering her, it is as if my heart were buried in the rain.
Again I think it's she, but why would she be coming now? Oh, what
sad days!
[ ... ] Your eyes : two sleepy cups darkened by purple berries from
the forest undergrowth. What a leaf, a leaf from a white vine,
fragrant and heavy, I could have brought you from the forest. Every-
thing flees from this solitude enforced by rain and contemplation. ~ Pablo Neruda