Sweet Memories Quotes

Memories, so sweet and bitter.. they had both nourished and devoured him for so many years. Until a time came when they began to fade, turning faint and blurred, only an ache to be quickly pushed away because it went to your heart. For what was the use of remembering all you had lost? ~ Cornelia Funke

Music can minister to minds diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with its sweet oblivious antidote, cleanse the full bosom of all perilous stuff that weighs upon the heart. ~ William Shakespeare

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill. ~ William Cowper

Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail. ~ Samuel Rogers

Whiles in the early Winter eve We pass amid the gathering night Some homestead that we had to leave Years past; and see its candles bright Shine in the room beside the door Where we were merry years agone But now must never enter more, As still the dark road drives us on. E'en so the world of men may turn At even of some hurried day And see the ancient glimmer burn Across the waste that hath no way; Then with that faint light in its eyes A while I bid it linger near And nurse in wavering memories The bitter-sweet of days that were. ~ William Morris

Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever. ~ William Wordsworth

Heart-aches are forgotten, tears lose their bitterness, and like a leaf of lavendar in a store of linen, so does Memory make life sweet. ~ Myrtle Reed

What could he say about a future to those parents who couldn't let go of the past, who could do nothing but watch their hopes for their children's futures fade away, their children gone for more than a year now and never coming back? What could he say to the rest of us, so marred by what happened within those hallowed halls of education we knew and once loved? There would be no sweet memories
those would be forever eclipsed. ~ Jennifer Brown

Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived. The odors of fruits waft me to my southern home, to my childhood frolics in the peach orchard. Other odors, instantaneous and fleeting, cause my heart to dilate joyously or contract with remembered grief. Even as I think of smells, my nose is full of scents that start awake sweet memories of summers gone and ripening fields far away. ~ Helen Keller

Ana, honey. The voice is soft and warm, full of love and sweet memories of times gone by. ~ E.L. James

He began to search among the infinite series of impressions which time had laid down, leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly, incessantly upon his brain; among scents, sounds; voices, harsh, hollow, sweet; and lights passing, and brooms tapping; and the wash and hush of the sea. ~ Virginia Woolf

> First, move out of that big Manhattan loft and head upstate. You'll find a little place you can afford and start a new life. Maybe get a job teaching at a community college. Maybe meet a girl at Best Buy, start dating. She'll put up with your crazy habits. You'll put up with her musical tastes.

> I don't understand. What's going on here?

> Time will pass. You'll make it official. You'll settle down, get a starter house. Two boys. Yellow Lab. Minivan.

> That. . . That isn't me.

> Why not? It could be. You'll make art in the basement for yourself for a while. The boys'll get married. Have kids of their own. Maybe y'get divorced. Meet someone new. And yeah, you'll wonder what could have been. But less, as the years go by. "Just wasn't meant to be," you'll say. And there'll be good times along the way. Sweet memories. Until it starts to wind down. Until your body fails. Until you don't recognize the world around you. Until it's time to go.

> That. . . isn't me. It can't be.

> Why not? It's a decent life. Food, sex, running water, a roof. Not to mention love and family. Those aren't small things.

> But it's not enough.

> You kids, you're so spoiled! Y'know billions would kill for a life like that. So what if the art thing didn't work out? Is it really that important?

> It's all I have. ~ Scott McCloud

I'm leaving my sorrows and all my memories behind to see what I find, somewhere in the shade near the sound of a sweet singing river, somewhere in the sun where the mountains make love to the sky. ~ John Denver

Sweet memory, wafted by the gentle gale,
Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours,
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers. ~ Samuel Rogers

He pressed his face into the fabric and breathed in slowly through his mouth and nose, hoping for the faintest smoke and mountain sage and salty sweet stink of Jack but there was no real scent, only the memory of it, the imagined power of Brokeback Mountain of which nothing was left but what he held in his hands. ~ Annie Proulx

O memory, thou bitter sweet,
both a joy and a scourge! ~ Madame De Stael

Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

You can't get a guarantee from everyone who appears in personal photographs that they will forever remain warm presences in one's life or sweet memories. ~ Emily Yoffe

Good thoughts are blessed guests, and should be heartily welcomed, well fed, and much sought after. Like rose leaves, they give out a sweet smell if laid up in the jar of memory. ~ Charles Spurgeon

Time and tide waits for no man, to capture time, treasure every moment in your life and let the time that slowly slips away memorable and worthy to be kept as sweet memories ~ M.O. Kenyan

Mysterious power, whence hope ethereal springs!
Sweet heavenly relic of eternal things!
Inspiring oft deep thoughts of things divine:
The past, the present, and the future time.
Thy reminiscences transport the soul
To memory?s Paradise?its future goal. ~ Parley P. Pratt

People of deserts cannot know the importance of forests; to know this, one must first have sweet memories spent in the forests! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

His smile brought back the best times, sweet memories of nights together ... stirring up those old feelings that got me thinkin' bout forever.. ~ Lee Ann Womack

Oh my dear, you can break my heart, tear my soul, but you will never be able to take my sweet memories and dreams away. Those are the truest assets of my life. ~ Debasish Mridha

But will they be together again? If they're reborn as new people with no memory of their previous lives, how can they find each other?"
"Soul mates will always find each other. Do not weep on their behalf ... they will be together again."
"Do you promise?" Lina's voice trembled with emotion.
"I promise, sweet one. I promise. ~ P.C. Cast

Beyond the pain, life continues to be sweet. The basics are still there. Beauty, food and friendship, reservoirs of love and understanding. Later, possibly not yet, you are going to need others who will encourage you to make new beginnings. Welcome them. They will help you move on, to cherish happy memories and confront the painful ones with more than bitterness and anger. ~ Rosamunde Pilcher

If we lose all our sweet memories, it means we are dead even if we are alive! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

Gritting my teeth as if it requires actual physical strength, I push the memory of him dying in my arms down, deep down. It almost seems to fight me, to want to surge into the forefront of my mind, and I sigh. Long ago I came to the realization that painful memories are persistent. The agony of them stays with you much longer, sharper, and clearer than sweet memories, that soften and assume a hazy, rosy glow in your mind, almost as if they have been airbrushed. Remembrance of pain is different; there is no muting of colors, no blurring of edges. No, its colors remain stark and bold, a palette of vibrant primary reds, blues, and yellows; its edges stay defined and razor sharp. Years later it can still cut you as deeply, make you bleed as profusely, as the day it was formed.
FROM AN UNTITLED WORK IN PROGRRESS ~ Lily Velden

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

Believe me when I tell you this. It will just take a little time and you will one day find that all your loves have merged together. You will be surprised because you will find yourself laughing or smiling over a memory of me and that's when you will know that your tears will soon subside. I want you to be free to love again and to be happy when you are reminded of me! You'll get there, you'll see, and it will be sweet and beautiful with a few sentimental tears now and again for all the loves you have had. ~ Kate McGahan

That was what she really wanted. To forget so thoroughly she'd never have another memory again, the bitter so bitter you gave up the sweet. ~ Janet Fitch

I used to love hospitals. That's another weird thing about me. I remember when my grandmother
so sweet, God rest her soul
was in the hospital, I always loved visiting her there. Very morbid memory! Most people hate hospitals. And I'm not a big fan of them now, but there was something about it for me back then. ~ Jennifer Aniston

If I should stay
I would only be in your way
So I'll go, but I know
I'll think of you each step of the way
And I will always love you
I will always love you
Bitter sweet Memories
That's all I am taking with me
Good-bye. Please don't cry
We both know that I'm not
What you need
But I will always love you
I will always love you. ~ Dolly Parton

Too much to take in, too much to purge. Why must every memory, once sweet, dead end in such ugliness? ~ Ellen Hopkins

Had I known how sweet they were
I would have saved more of these memories ~ Richard L. Ratliff

The record of a generous life runs like a vine around the memory of our dead, and every sweet unselfish act is now a perfumed flower. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll

I wrap my arms around his neck, feel his arms hesitate before they embrace me. Not as steady as they once were, but still warm and strong. A thousand moments surge through me. All the times these arms were my only refuge from the world. Perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in my memory, and now gone for ever. ~ Suzanne Collins

Love is not simply the sum of sweet greetings and wrenching partings and kisses and embraces, but is made up more of the memory of what has happened and the imagining of what is to come. ~ Anita Shreve

There are some errors so sweet that we repent them only to bring them to memory. ~ Jean Antoine Petit-Senn

We consider ourselves as defective in memory, either because we remember less than we desire, or less than we suppose others to remember. ~ Samuel Johnson

The greatest poets are those with memories so great that they extend beyond their strongest experiences to their minutest observations of people and things far outside their own self-centeredness. ~ Stephen Spender

I would say that whatever happens down the line, that Quicksilver vanishes from the movies, I don't know. At this point it is the beginning of him coming into the group and being a force that fights evil. It's pretty sweet. ~ Evan Peters

If I have an audition, I go to the audition in character. I'm in character when I walk in the room. I mean, I'm still sweet to everyone, but I'm very much the character. ~ Kat Graham

Night Vale, my sweet and only Night Vale, may you find love. May you find it wherever it's been hidden. May you find who has been hiding it and extract revenge upon them. ~ Joseph Fink

Where are those tears in your eyes, my child?
How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing!
You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing-
is that why they call you dirty?
O, fie! Would they dare to call the full moon dirty because
it has smudged its face with ink?
For every little trifle they blame you, my child. They are
ready to find fault for nothing.
You tore your clothes while playing-is that why they call you
untidy?
O, fie! What would they call an autumn morning that smiles
through its ragged clouds?
Take no heed of what they say to you, my child.
They make a long list of your misdeeds.
Everybody knows how you love sweet things-is that why they
call you greedy?
O, fie! What then would they call us who love you? ~ Rabindranath Tagore

Some memories are less patient than others. The impatient memories, he had learned, eventually start searching for you. ~ R.A. Evans

You are that moment before falling, the falling,
a whir of falling, a wail of falling, the sweet
thud. ~ Sandra Beasley

The memory has as many moods as the temper, and shifts its scenery like a diorama. ~ George Eliot

Lake, could you please stop sweet-talking the weapons? It's kind of freaking me out. ~ Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Without asking for permission, I tugged her hair out of the rubber band and ran it through my finger, savoring the silky feel. "It's perfect. Men are suckers for long hair. I think it goes back to the early days when cavemen would grab women by the hair and tug them back to their hay beds and make sweet love to them." "That's" -Blake shook her head- "probably one of the most offensive things I've ever heard. ~ Rachel Van Dyken

Father, may my song today be a sweet sound in Your ears-even if in Yours alone. Amen. ~ Aiden Wilson Tozer

I and the girl in the picture have ceased to be the same person. I am her outcome, the result of the life she once lived headlong; whereas she, if she can be said to exist at all, is composed only of what I remember. I have the better view - I can see her clearly, most of the time. But even if she knew enough to look, she can't see me at all. ~ Margaret Atwood

CYCLOPS: Emma ... I knew you wouldn't turn your back on us.
EMMA: Sweet as you are, I didn't come back for you Scott. I came for my handbag. Lucky for you, this is a Louis Vuitton. ~ Grant Morrison

Literature is my Utopia ... No barrier of the senses shuts me out from the sweet, gracious discourse of my book-friends ~ Helen Keller

Ruby, what does the future look like?" Nico asked. "I can't picture it. I try all the time, but I can't imagine it. Jude said it looked like an open road just after a rainstorm."
I turned back toward the board, eyes tracing those eight letters, trying to take their power away; change them from a place, a name, to just another word. Certain memories trap you; you relive their thousand tiny details. The damp, cool spring air, swinging between snow flurries and light rain. The hum of the electric fence. The way Sam used to let out a small sigh each morning we left the cabin. I remembered the path to the Factory the way you never forgot the story behind a scar. The black mud would splatter over my shoes, momentarily hiding the numbers written there. 3285. Not a name.
You learned to look up, craning your neck back to gaze over the razor wire curled around the top of the fence. Otherwise, it was too easy to forget that there was a world beyond the rusting metal pen they'd thrown all of us animals into.
"I see it in colors," I said. "A deep blue, fading into golds and reds - like fire on a horizon. Afterlight. It's a sky that wants you to guess if the sun is about to rise or set."
Nico shook his head. "I think I like Jude's better."
"Me too," I said softly. "Me too. ~ Alexandra Bracken

To forget and to repress would be a good solution if there were no more to it than that. But repressed pain blocks emotional life and leads to physical symptoms. And the worst thing is that although the feelings of the abused child have been silenced at the point of origin, that is, in the presence of those who caused the pain, they find their voice when the battered child has children of his own. ~ Alice Miller

Sisters, while they are growing up, tend to be very rivalrous and as young mothers they are given to continual rivalrous comparisons of their several children. But once the children grow older, sisters draw closer together and often, in old age, they become each other's chosen and most happy companions. In addition to their shared memories of childhood and of their relationship to each other's children, they share memories of the same home, the same homemaking style, and the same small prejudices about housekeeping that carry the echoes of their mother's voice ... ~ Margaret Mead

I begged her, 'Please don't leave me stranded in the middle of some primitive zarking forest with no medical help and a head injury. I could be in serious trouble and so could she.'"
"What did she say?"
"She hit me on the head with the rock again," Ford responded curtly.
"I think i can confirm that was my daughter."
"Sweet kid."
"You have to get to know her," said Arthur.
"She eases up, does she?"
"No, but you get a better sense of when to duck. ~ Douglas Adams

The girl longed for a love that could not be ended by death. From the time she was young, she knew that her true love was there, somewhere, living a life that would one day intersect her own. Knowing this made every day full of sweet possibility. Knowing that her true love lived and breathed and went about his day under her same sun made her fears vanish, her sorrows small, and her hopes high. Though she did not yet know his face, the color of his eyes, still she knew him better than anyone else knew him, knew his hopes and dreams, what made him laugh and cry. ~ Martine Leavitt

The true problem of living is to keep our hearts sweet and gentle in the hardest conditions and experiences. ~ Bill Vaughan

Oh well, memories, said I. Yes, even remembering in itself is sad, yet how much more its object! Don't let yourself in for things like that, it's not for you and not for me. It only weakens one's present position without strengthening the former one - nothing is more obvious - quite apart from the fact that the former one doesn't need strengthening. ~ Franz Kafka

Why be trapped in time? Why count the days?
Why worry if you are getting older or looking younger?
When authentic beauty is timeless and true love is eternal;
And the fond memories in your heart are for ever. ~ Hrishikesh Agnihotri

She couldn't put into words how desparately she wanted to know what had happened to Sarah. But she'd suddenly realized that Sarah was not the only one who had lost her memory of what happened when she was a little girl. Hundreds of thousands of people had lost their memories of what had happened to them ... ~ Denny Taylor

It is sweet to know the truth, though the truth is not always sweet. It might be bitter. Very bitter sometimes. ~ Aishah Madadiy

Eyes watching always
Shadows in shadows they wait
A black feather falls
First accepted, loved
Then betrayed-spit in the face
Vengeance sweet like dots. ~ Kristin Cast

We are so stricken

We are so stricken
that we think we're dying
when the street casts an evil word at us.
The street does not know it,
but it cannot stand such a weight;
it is not used to seeing a Vesuvius of pain
break out.
Its memories of primeval times are obliterated,
since the light became artificial
and angels only play with birds and flowers
or smile in a child's dream ~ Nelly Sachs

In every battle, there is a death. The loser may laugh it off if the war is short and sweet and without cost. Or the loser may bleed out, if the war is to the death. ~ Yasmine Galenorn

An actor's life is the shadow of a cloud, the echo of a sound, the memory of a dream, nothing come of nothing. The finest actor does not create, he is but a translator of another man's work. ~ Fanny Kemble

O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,
to drown me in thy sister's flood of tears. ~ William Shakespeare

The other day as I was stepping out of Star Grocery on Claremont Avenue with some pork ribs under my arm, the Berkeley sky cloudless, a smell of jasmine in the air, a car driving by with its window rolled down, trailing a sweet ache of the Allman Brothers' "Melissa," it struck me that in order to have reached only the midpoint of my life I will need to live to be 92. That's pretty old. If you live to be ninety-two, you've done well for yourself. I'd like to be optimistic, and I try to take care of my health, but none of my grandparents even made it past 76, three killed by cancer, one by Parkinson's disease. If I live no longer than any of them did, I have at most thirty years left, which puts me around sixty percent of the way through my time.



I am comfortable with the idea of mortality, or at least I always have been, up until now. I never felt the need to believe in heaven or an afterlife. It has been decades since I stopped believing-a belief that was never more than fitful and self-serving to begin with-in the possibility of reincarnation of the soul. I'm not totally certain where I stand on the whole "soul" question. Though I certainly feel as if I possess one, I'm inclined to disbelieve in its existence. I can live with that contradiction, as with the knowledge that my time is finite, and growing shorter by the day. It's just that lately, for the first time, that shortening has become perceptible. I can feel each tiny skyward lurch of the balloo ~ Michael Chabon

Ronald Reagan has a stack of three-by-five cards in his lap. He skids up a new one: "What advice do you, as the youngest American fighting man ever to win both the Navy Cross and the Silver Star, have for any young marines on their way to Guadalcanal?"
Shaftoe doesn't have to think very long. The memories are still as fresh as last night's eleventh nighmare: ten plucky Nips in Suicide Charge!
"Just kill the one with the sword first."
"Ah," Reagan says, raising his waxed and penciled eyebrows, and cocking his pompadour in Shaftoe's direction. "Smarrrt
you target them because they're the officers, right?"
"No, fuckhead!" Shaftoe yells. "You kill 'em because they've got fucking swords! You ever had anyone running at you waving a fucking sword? ~ Neal Stephenson

His voice in my mind is soft, just out of reach like a spent echo. I wonder if these memories are worth holding on to. Are worth the burden. I wonder what purpose they serve. ~ Carrie Ryan

In memory each of us is an artist: each of us creates. ~ Patricia Hampl

My God, thank you for bringing her. It's like a trip into the past. Hannah looks just like her. My sweet little Terri." And Vanni was reminded, not for the first time, that the loss of a child is probably the most brutal loss of all, no matter that child's age. * ~ Robyn Carr

People parted, years passed, they met again- and the meeting proved no reunion, offered no warm memories, only the acid knowledge that time had passed and things weren't as bright or attractive as they had been. ~ Jacqueline Susann

Mindfulness practice begins to open up everything. We open our mind to memories, to emotions, to different sensations in the body. In meditation this happens in a very organic way, because we are not searching, we are not pulling or probing, we are just sitting and watching. ~ Joseph Goldstein

When those who name dead people have gone, there just remains the calmness of foreign cemeteries, in which nothing appears familiar and nothing frightens you. ~ Ray Loriga

The last speaker alluded to this movement as being that of a few disappointed women. From the first years to which my memory stretches, I have been a disappointed woman ... I was disappointed when I came to seek a profession worthy an immortal being
every employment was closed to me, except those of the teacher, the seamstress, and the housekeeper. In education, in marriage, in religion, in everything, disappointment is the lot of woman. It shall be the business of my life to deepen this disappointment in every woman's heart until she bows down to it no longer. ~ Lucy Stone

When the brain is working to remember something, similar patterns of neurons fire as they did during the perception of the original event. These networks are linked, and each time we revisit them, they become stronger and more associated. But they need the proper retrieval cues
words, smells, images
for them to be brought back as memories ~ Susannah Cahalan

She was a story in herself, sweet and full of hope, just beginning. ~ Cassandra Clare

I have really fond memories of growing up in Chicago, and I always love going back. I still have a lot of really good friends from high school that I go to dinner with. It's kind of become a tradition when I go out there to do a show to give a few friends a call, tell some funny stories about high school and walk down memory lane. ~ Kaskade

But if you could just pay her some small attention-or better yet, escort her yourself-it would be ever so helpful, and I would be grateful forever."
"Alex, if you were married to anyone but Jordan Townsende, I might consider asking you how you'd be willing to express your gratitude. However, since I haven't any real wish to see my life brought to a premature end, I shall refrain from doing so and say instead that your smile is gratitude enough."
"Don't joke, Roddy, I'm quite desperately in need of your help, and I would be eternally grateful for it."
"You are making me quake with trepidation, my sweet. Whoever she is, she must be in a deal of trouble if you need me."
"She's lovely and spirited, and you will admire her tremendously."
"In that case, I shall deem it an embarrassing honor to lend my support to her. Who-" His gaze flicked to a sudden movement in the doorway and riveted there, his eternally bland expression giving way to reverent admiration. "My God," he whispered.
Standing in the doorway like a vision from heaven was an unknown young woman clad in a shimmering silver-blue gown with a low, square neckline that offered a tantalizing view of smooth, voluptuous flesh, and a diagonally wrapped bodice that emphasized a tiny waist. Her glossy golden hair was swept back off her forehead and held in place with a sapphire clip, then left to fall artlessly about her shoulders and midway down her back, where it ended in luxurious waves and curls ~ Judith McNaught

There in the sweet sacking smell of the mail bags he understood that he was dying, and it pleased him that he was going in the company of so many soft words home. ~ Chris Cleave

As well as being the banners and ensigns of human groups, languages guard our memories too. Even when they are unwritten, languages are the most powerful tools we have to conserve our past knowledge, transmitting it, ever and anon, to the next generation. Any human language binds together a human community, by giving it a network of communication; but it also dramatizes it, providing the means to tell, and to remember, its stories. ~ Nicholas Ostler

A kind of memory that tells us that what we're now striving for was once nearer and truer and attached to us with infinite tenderness. Here all is distance, there it was breath. After the first home the second one seems draughty and strangely sexed. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

The saxophone is so human. Its tendency is to be rowdy, edgy, talk too loud, bump into people, say the wrong words at the wrong time, but then, you take a breath all the way from the center of the earth and blow. All that heartache is forgiven. All that love we humans carry makes a sweet, deep sound and we fly a little. ~ Joy Harjo