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Memory Quotes

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Memory Quotes

“If, in the further reaches of some or another remote corridor in an immense house of two or, perhaps, three storeys, and behind some or another door that remains mostly closed but in sight of a window overlooking some or another tract of far-reaching landscape of mostly level grassy countryside with low hills or a line of trees in the distance, a certain man at his desk, on some or another day of sunshine with scattered clouds, were to spurn the predictable words and phrases of the many writers of fiction who have reported of this or that male character that he once fell in love with this or that female character, and if that same man, after striving as neither I, the author of this sentence, nor even the most discerning reader of the sentence, have or has striven nor will ever strive, in late afternoon, and at about the time when the rays of the declining sun might have caused the pane in the window of his room to seem to a traveller on a distant road like a spot of golden oil, had found in his heart, or wherever such things are to be found, the words best fitted to suggest what he seemed to have felt long before, on a certain hot afternoon, in a distant inland city, and whether he had simply kept those words in mind or whether he had actually written them, either as notes for a work of fiction that he might one day write or as part of an actual work of fiction, then I do not doubt that the words would have been to the effect that a certain boy, a mere child, while he watched unobserved a certain girl, a mere child, whose name he did not know and who had almost certainly never had sight of him, wished for the means to inform her that he was worthy of trust.”

“Robert G. Ingersoll was a great man. a wonderful intellect, a great soul of matchless courage, one of the great men of the earth -- and yet we have no right to bow down to his memory simply because he was great. Great orators, great soldiers, great lawyers, often use their gifts for a most unholy cause. We meet to pay a tribute of love and respect to Robert G. Ingersoll because he used his matchless power for the good of man. {Darrow's eulogy for Ingersoll at his funeral}”

“School friends are like the bijou of friends. School friends were and are the sorcerers of real happiness. Happiness that once thrived through us, by virtue of the fact that we were untouched by the ways of the world. And happiness that comes through them even today, however sporadic, by the virtue of the fact that the pure and unadulterated impressions of buddy-love that were left on us then, could not be eroded by time or too much awareness or too many new friends.”

“True friends are formed by the pukka love of the heart. And school days were when we still did not understand love, but there was never a dearth of a feeling that exuded from within us towards each other, out of genuine attachment for another, and that energy still surrounds us, which today we call as love. The invisible threads of purity and love we spun around each other once in time, have stitched us together in a way that it has become for life. It has been so many years, and through so many ups and downs, school friends’ calls, even pictures, still give me salubrious happiness and warmth.”

“Who is closest or farthest from my heart, I may not have an absolute answer to. I do not even know who can I refer to as a friend and who I may not. I may not know and may keep scrambling for answers but I know this with complete certainty—the ones I met, metamorphosized me into the person that I am, in some way or the other— this, I know today.”

“While I take a trip down memory lane, I relive my childhood, with none of the friends physically around but still very much around to whisper our moments into my ears. Adorning a bright smile, I tell myself with a proud and contended voice that I hope gets telepathed to my friends-- We have gone down in the history of our lives my friends. History!”

“The dichotomy of life is that it organically tutors us to visualise dreams in childhood but, not necessarily do those dreams come true inch-perfect as we envision them. Life edifies the reality of those dreams. Dreams that may arrive to us in mismatched forms but in essence, only encased differently, sometimes close to what we thought and sometimes not. It is the perspective of discreetly seeing things that come our way, that generates wisdom and happiness within us.”

“Let getting to know people be as “organic” as it is, but also know early on in life, what you envision in a friend, someone who positively prepends to your personality. Introspect, fathom and learn what you want from yourself and then you would know when you meet a person, if that person may help you be the person you want to be. This is how you mindfully seek what you set your eyes on.”

“He remembered how nice the kids at Camp Half-Blood had been to him after the war with Kronos. Great job, Nico! Thanks for bringing the armies of the Underworld to save us! Everybody smiled. They all invited him to sit at their table. After about a week, his welcome wore thin. Campers would jump when he walked up behind them. He would emerge from the shadows at the campfire, startle somebody and see the discomfort in their eyes: Are you still here? Why are you here? It didn’t help that immediately after the war with Kronos, Annabeth and Percy had started dating … Nico set down his fartura. Suddenly it didn’t taste so good.”

“When my relationship ended with Gabriel all those years ago, I was devastated for a while, and then I did what every self-respecting woman would do: I shut the door on it, on him. I taught myself to think of Gabriel as someone who belonged to my teenage years, a first crush, little more to me than my brief fixation with the singer Johnnie Ray. Seeing Gabriel again, like this, in the place where we once meant so much to each other, could she,e me to my core if I let it.”

“Memory is a funny thing. When I was in the scene, I hardly paid it any mind. I never stopped to think of it as something that would make a lasting impression, certainly never imagined that eighteen years later I would recall it in such detail. I didn't give a damn about the scenery that day. I was thinking about myself. I was thinking about the beautiful girl walking next to me. I was thinking about the two of us together, and then about myself again. It was the age, that time of life when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, to me. And worse, I was in love. Love with complications. The scenery was the last thing on my mind.”