“Standing in front of a fake mountain with fake snow falling and seven girls dressed as Santarettes will stay in my memory.” FallGirlMemoriesFrontsMountainStandingSevenSnowFakeSnow Falling Author:Bill Nighy
“We are in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us....How glorious a conversion, so complete and wholesome it is, scarce memory enough of old bondage days left as a standpoint to view it from! In this newness of life we seem to have been so always” Has BeensEnoughSeemsLeftMemoriesViewsMountainConversionEnthusiasmCellsGloriousNervesBondageFillingStandpointScarceNewnessQuiverKindlingNewness Of Life Book:John Muir, in His Own Words: A Book of Quotations Source: John Muir, in His Own Words: A Book of Quotations
“I have memories of the clearest crystal mountain days imaginable, when we fortunates in the height seemed to be sky people living in light alone.” PeopleLightMemoriesSkyMountainHeightCrystals Author:J. E. H. MacDonald
“No, what worries me is that I might in a sense adapt to this environment and come to be comfortable here and not resent it anymore. And I am afraid that as the years go by that I may forget, I may begin to lose my memories of the mountains and the woods and that's what really worries me, that I might lose those memories, and lose that sense of contact with wild nature in general. But I am not afraid they are going to break my spirit.” YearsMayMightSpiritLosesMemoriesForgetBreakWorryEnvironmentMountainComfortableWoodsContactNot AfraidResent Author:Theodore Kaczynski
“In his bleak mercy, Death forever strips The soul of light and memory, rendering blind Our vision, lest surmounted deeps appal, As when on mountain-heights a glance behind Betrays with knowledge, and the climber slips Down gulfs of fear to some enormous fall.” SoulLightDeathFallMemoriesBehindsVisionForeverMountainMercyBlindEnormousHeightSlipsBetrayGlancesBleakRenderingClimbers Author:Clark Ashton Smith
“Scots are born exiles, and Scotland the perfect country to be exiled from. Do not imagine that I am running down Scotland. Far from it. ... No, what I mean is that Scotland's beauties, though undeniable, are obvious ones, easy to carry in the heart, easy even to describe to the benighted members of less fortunate races. Lakes, islands and mountains, heather and rowan, broad straths and narrow glens - these are jewels easily worn in the memory.” HeartMeanCountryRunningEasyBornMemoriesPerfectRaceImagineMountainMembersObviousFortunateIslandsLakesBroadsImagine ThatWornScotlandJewelsExileScotsLess FortunateHeathers Book:A pocketful of pebbles Source: A pocketful of pebbles
“One of my earliest memories is walking up a muddy road into the mountains. It was raining. Behind me, my village was burning. When there was school, it was under a tree. Then the United Nations came. They fed me, my family, my community.” SchoolNationsCommunityMemoriesUnitedBehindsTreeWalkingMountainRainMy FamilyBurningFedsVillageUnited NationsMuddy Author:Ban Ki-moon
“Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains...” NatureMemoriesChildhoodMountainSummerSmellMemorableUnexpectedLakesScentFleetingJuneOur MemoriesMomentaryChildhood MemoriesSweet Potatoes Author:Diane Ackerman
“Yet this perhaps is what love does, or the memory of it; it sucks the life from the living, glorying body and leaves it, when love has gone, a shred, a simulacrum - dross, to be swept up from the factory floor, pitiful and dusty, useless... Do all men and women feel love before they die? This force, this source of light, that lies before the sun; glances off mountains and lakes, blinding and dazzling, on a Sunday afternoon; so brilliant you have to guard your soul, fold your arms to shield your heart from the very memory of it.” MenFeelsHeartDoeSoulBodyLightLyingDiesForceMemoriesLove IsSunGoneSourceArmsMountainMen And WomenBrilliantYour SoulUselessLakesSundayAfternoonFactoriesGlancesFoldsShieldsDazzlingPitifulDrossSunday AfternoonsSimulacrum Author:Fay Weldon