Song Of Memory Quotes

He licked his lips, still looking earnest. "Sara. We had such a special connection. It was real and it was fantastic. Maybe that's why I've spent so many years yearning for it too. We both knew what it was like, and we lost it. Even though you may not remember yet, it's somewhere in here." He reached over and touched my head. "And in there." He pointed a finger toward my heart.
I was speechless. I stared at Jack, knowing in my heart that he was being honest and truthful. And I was overwhelmed that he understood me so well.
Turning to face me, his eyes burned with intensity. He took my hands in his and said, "I love you Sara Jordan Hamilton, and I'm willing to give you all the desires of your heart, if only you'll let me. Nothing can take away my love for you. Not time, not distance, not even another husband. ~ Sharon Ricklin Jones

The lack of historical memory is a serious shortcoming in our society. A mentality that can only say, "Then was then, now is now", is ultimately immature. Knowing and judging past events is the only way to build a meaningful future. Memory is necessary for growth. ~ Pope Francis

It was fine summer weather again, and, as I walked along, the times when I was a little helpless creature, and my sister did not spare me, vividly returned. But they returned with a gentle tone upon them that softened even the edge of Tickler. For now, the very breath of the beans and clover whispered to my heart that the day must come when it would be well for my memory that others walking in the sunshine should be softened as they thought of me. At ~ Charles Dickens

One's first memories are often vicarious: one is told that one did something or was involved in something; one dramatizes it and folds the image falsely into the annals of the truly remembered. ~ Anthony Burgess

His memory's gone", said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself." Lockhart peered good
naturedly up at them all. "Hello", he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here? ~ J.K. Rowling

But that evening, driving back to the plant in the little underground train, I firmly believed my bad luck was over. One of the cars I had admired that morning took me back to the city. Fortunately some shops were still open here and there; I could buy myself a new suit. For Teresa I bought a nice summer dress with red stripes, which reminded me of the one in which I had seen her for the first time. It fitted to perfection – I knew her measurements. She had shared many hours with me, mainly bitter ones.

We went out for dinner; it was one of the days one never forgets. Quite soon the happenings in Zapparoni's garden began to fade in my memory. There is much that is illusory in techniques. But I never forgot Teresa's words, and her smile when she spoke. Now she was happy about me. This smile was more powerful than all the automatons – it was a ray of reality. ~ Ernst Junger

I've filled my whole life trying to preserve the memory of living, in the fight against dying. Perhaps the only thing I've done, since stopping death is impossible, is to show this fight. The fight itself does not satisfy us either. ~ Christian Boltanski

He ragarded her in surprise. This was a different tune from the one he'd expected to hear, certainly a change from the verse she'd sung when he was a boy. Commitment to ones' name, to one's heritage, to that which the sacrifices of others had made possible -- that was the song he used to hear from Aunt Mary.
"Yes, I do," she said, "If I've learned anything by now, it's that some things are too priceless to sacrifice for a name." - Mary and William ~ Leila Meacham

But to be included in Dick Diver's world for a while was a remarkable experience: people believed he made special reservations about them, recognizing the proud uniqueness of their destinies, buried under the compromises of how many years. He won everyone quickly with an exquisite consideration and a politeness that moved so fast and intuitively that it could be examined only in its effect. Then, without caution, lest the first bloom of the relation wither, he opened the gate to his amusing world. So long as they subscribed to it completely, their happiness was his preoccupation, but at the first flicker of doubt as to its all- inclusiveness he evaporated before their eyes, leaving little communicable memory of what he had said or done. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

My song is not one of peace. It is one of failure and pain. My song is one of battle and blood, death and power. It is not the song of Helene Aquilla. It is the song of the Blood Shrike. ~ Sabaa Tahir

It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that is purloined. ~ Arundhati Roy

There is great incongruity in this idea of monuments, since those to whom they are usually dedicated need no such recognition to embalm their memory; and any man who does, is not worthy of one. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

Let us be silent to listen to the heart's songs of eternity. Let us be kind to feel the beauty of tranquility. Let us vanish to belong and be nothing. ~ Debasish Mridha

... not within my memory."

"All 300 years of it?"

That comment earned her a frown.
"My apologies," she amended lightly. "I supposed I should not tease you about being so old."

"Nay, feel free."
His slow smile flashed in the moonlight.
"I would be happy to prove to you that I possess all the prowess and stamina of a man of 30. Mayhap I should demonstrate. ~ Shelly Thacker

The wu in wuxia means both "to cut" and "to stop." It also refers to the weapon - usually a sword - carried by the assassin, the hero of the story. The genre became very popular during the Song Dynasty [960–1279]. These stories often depicted a soldier in revolt, usually against a corrupt political leader. In order to stop corruption and the killing of innocent people, the hero must become an assassin. So wuxia stories are concerned with the premise of ending violence with violence. Although their actions are motivated by political reasons, the hero's journey is epic and transformative - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. In the Tang Dynasty, a prominent poet named Li Bai wrote some verses about an assassin. This is the earliest example I know of wuxia literature. Gradually, the genre gave shape to ideas and stories that had been percolating in historical and mythological spheres. Although these stories were often inspired by real events of the past, to me they feel very contemporary and relevant.

It's one of the oldest genres in Chinese literature, and there are countless wuxia novels today. I began to immerse myself in these novels when I was in elementary school, and they quickly became my favorite things to read. I started with newer books and worked my way back to the earliest writing from the Tang Dynasty. ~ Hou Hsiao-hsien

The casino played a song of its own - slot machines dinging, chips clacking as the dealer passed them out to the players at the tables, and the chatter of people throwing down money with the hope of hitting it big. It was like a carnival for adults. A person could get lost for days in a place like this. ~ Michelle Madow

There are so few people left alive from back then, you may as well be talking to them about the Black Death. Nobody recalls the shite in the 30s and that were fucking horrible. For Christ's sake, nobody wants to remember the shite in the 80s. It's all forgotten and swept under the rug by the newspapers and the BBC. They get nostalgic about the music, but they never want to mention the misery. It's all shite. As for the bloody Second World War, the politicians only talk about it when they need an excuse to go pissing about in one of those fucking Muslim countries. ~ Harry Leslie Smith

Have you ever entered a kitchen to find a woman, her legs crossed while the rest of her body is dressed in colourful khanga, smiling at you while her hands are making a melodious song with a coconut grater? Have you ever wondered how any woman size can fit on that grater regardless of their body size? The time for wondering is over. East Africa heartily welcomes you to see for yourself. Go and visit it. ~ Gloria D. Gonsalves

I did see, however, what the Russian church had lost in its first decade of "freedom." Under communism, the church had found a way to survive and often thrive. Scripture and holy song was its lifeblood. ~ Nik Ripken

You know the saying that nothing can last forever? It's partly true. Feelings can stop, people can leave us, but regardless, a piece of them is always with us, in some way. Maybe it's in a song, or a forgotten note, a picture. Even when you no longer love someone or can't be with them, you still remember them, you still remember good parts of them, and you smile. Why worry about it lasting or not? Even if it doesn't, you'll still have a part of him. And he'll still have a part of you. And isn't that what's really important? Holding the best pieces of someone in our hearts so that the love never really fades, so that we don't forget that we once knew them, and they were special to us. ~ Lindy Zart

I am a single note, a tone that peals in the wind. I am in the magic of the moment and then he returns, flowing toward me around the thick immense bark of the Sequoia. ~ Sophia Rose

A baby is a flower of hope, a song of eternity, and a promise of love and beauty of humanity. ~ Debasish Mridha

Phantoms of thought and memory thinned and fled. ~ Siegfried Sassoon

You bring fresh eyes, Matt. For us, something crazy may happen, and we all say 'Oh my' at the time, but the next week some new crazy thing happens that wipes the memory clean. And we go on to the next. La-di-da. I guess we just forgot about that other incident until now.
- spoken by Sara, the missionary doctor, to Matt.
(from The Sacrament of the Goddess, 2014) ~ Joe Niemczura

A memory is a luminous miniature, like the hologram of the princess, in that movie, that the faithful robot carried in his circuits from galaxy to galaxy. The sadness inherent in any memory comes from the fact that its object is forgetting. All movement, the great horizon, the journey, is a spasm of forgetting, which bends in the bubble of memory. Memory is always portable, it is always in the hands of a wandering automaton. ~ Cesar Aira

Nations are possessed with an insane ambition to perpetuate the memory of themselves by the amount of hammered stone they leave. ~ Henry David Thoreau

Live your life, sing your song. Not full of expectations. Not for the ovations. But for the joy of it. ~ Rasheed Ogunlaru

Whenever I hang out with my female friends, I feel like context is never needed. They can just say two words about something, it's like hearing the first two notes of a song and you can always identify the song. They can just say a word and I know exactly what they're talking about. ~ Heidi Julavits

And yet, he was finding more and more that he didn't want to take his mind off her. Which was more potent? The pain of memory, or the pain of forgetting? ~ Brandon Sanderson

Your average pop song or film is a very sophisticated item, with very sophisticated ways of listening and viewing that we have not really consciously developed over the years - because we were having such a good time. ~ Paul Muldoon

I might have taken a little more time, I might have allowed myself a longer goodbye.. soaking up every little detail until the memory was firmly lodged in my mind forever. But that's not how it works is it? And maybe it's better that way. Because some things are never meant to be anything more than a moment. And that was one of them. -Cait ~ Kevin Brooks

Through my history's despite
and ruin, I have come
to its remainder, and here
have made the beginning
of a farm intended to become
my art of being here.
By it I would instruct
my wants: they should belong
to each other and to this place.
Until my song comes here
to learn its words, my art
is but the hope of song.
(Part 2 from History is Clearing, p 174) ~ Wendell Berry

The guilt and the horror and the memory of that awful smell might stay with her forever, but she was the queen. ~ Marissa Meyer

Everybody dreams, but memory for dreams is famously elusive. Even Sigmund Freud, without the benefit of modern technology's electroencephalogram, or EEG, did not know that adult humans dream 90 minutes per night, and that newborns spend eight hours per day dreaming (out of their 16 hours of sleep). REM sleep helps grow the brain! ~ Charles McPhee

It's not even people anymore, it's one big thing you want to control and once you've had a taste of it, you're hooked. It's like if you don't have it you will die, do you know what I mean? Somebody's handed you the baton and you can lead this rich, powerful orchestra. Does that make sense to you? I mean after that, leading a five-piece band means nothing, not after you've led that orchestra, thousands of people all playing the song just like you want them to. ~ Fannie Flagg

Following the road down to Maienfeld, she said to herself, "If only I can meet the Spring, how happy I shall be."
Today, she thought of the Spring as a gay messenger boy and smilingly she imagined him "in a beautiful apple green suit with daisies studding his shoes" as it says in the song. ~ Charles Tritten

One of my favorite things is when people will ask for a song that I hadn't planned to play. It is really fun to see if you can remember something, and you don't always. I mean, sometimes it's just crash and burn. ~ Lyle Lovett

I exposed people to magic. I exposed them to something they're never otherwise going to see in their boring, normal lives. And I gave that to them. I may forget about them tomorrow, but they'll live with that memory for the rest of their lives. And that's a gift, man. ~ Charlie Sheen

Smoke hung heavy in the air. Will's eyes stung. His throat.
His nose. And the crackling. God, the crackling fire was like the devil laughing.
Vera was in that house.
Mikey gripped his arm. "Hold on, Will - "
Will lunged forward. "Vera - "
"Whoa, Will." Mikey's grip tightened. "Stop."
"The hell I will. Vera - "
"Billy?" One of the cops approached him. Said a bunch of
words. Helped Mikey hold Will back.
Vera was in that house.
Vera, her trusty wooden body, her frets, her new strings. Vera,
who'd had his back everywhere from Pickleberry Springs to
Nashville to New York to LA, from seedy bars to stadiums.
Vera, who'd helped him write his first song. His last song.
Every song in between. ~ Jamie Farrell

I just like a great song. I just wanted to be this true reflection of what is in my heart and it ended up becoming my life which was kind of surreal, but I do enjoy writing for other people. ~ The Rocket Summer

I rather adore that about you.

Her heart gave a bittersweet twinge.

Don't be greedy, she told herself. With a bit of strategic memory, the redaction of a word or two, she could remember that as I adore you - or close enough to it. ~ Tessa Dare

I walked slowly back home, breathing deeply and taking in all the sights and sounds of a private country club golf course: the beeping of a distant golf cart driving in reverse, the barking of the bird dogs Dr. Burris took hunting with him every fall and winter, millions of tiny birds in triumphant song. It was the closest thing to the country that I'd known until now.
And my thoughts turned to Marlboro Man.
I was thinking of him when I walked back into the house, imagining his gorgeous voice in my ear when I heard the phone ringing in my room. I ran up the stairs, skipping three steps at a time, and answered the phone, breathless.
"Hello?" I gasped.
"Hey there," Marlboro Man said. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, I just went for a run on the golf course," I answered. As if I did it every day.
"Well, I just want you to know I'm coming to get you at five," he said. "I'm having Ree withdrawals."
"You mean since midnight, when we last saw each other?" I joked. Actually, I knew exactly what he meant.
"Yeah," he said. "That's way, way too long, and I'm not gonna put up with it anymore." I loved it when he took charge.
"Okay, then--fine," I said, surrendering. "I don't want to argue. I'll see you at five. ~ Ree Drummond

Your past is like a bag of bricks; set it down and walk away. Quit collecting every painful word, memory and mistake. Collect hope. ~ Bryant McGill

Something unwanted came to life in me. It was not passion, but something maybe worse than that: memory. Of the one and only woman in my life. I did not know how she had emerged from underneath the sediment of years; she had not been so pretty as this woman, not even similar to her. Why did the one recall the other? I was more concerned with that distant one, who no longer existed, whom I had been forgetting and recalling for twenty years. She surfaced in my memory when I neither wanted nor needed her, bitter as absinthe. She had not appeared for a long time, so why did she come now? Was it because of this woman ~ Mesa Selimovic

Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning." - Thornton Wilder, The Bridge of San Luis Rey ~ Nancy Herkness

Without the dark there isn't light. Without the pain there is no relief. And I remind myself that I'm lucky to be able to feel such great sorrow, and also such great happiness. I can grab on to each moment of joy and live in those moments because I have seen the bright contrast from dark to light and back again. I am privileged to be able to recognize that the sound of laughter is a blessing and a song, and to realize that the bright hours spent with my family and friends are extraordinary treasures to be saved, because those same moments are a medicine, a balm. Those moments are a promise that life is worth fighting for, and that promise is what pulls me through when depression distorts reality and tries to convince me otherwise. ~ Jenny Lawson