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Remembrance Quotes

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Remembrance Quotes

“He said that the blood was not his own, but that of a comrade a few feet away who had been blown apart by an enemy grenade. And after having left the rice paddies of Vietnam, he eventually took up residence in the pew of a small mid-western church. For he said that he had been covered by the blood of one friend in combat and by blood of another on a cross in another sort of combat. And such was his love for both that he committed to forget neither.”

“At first glance, it looked like the portrait of her family that hung in the Great Hall. But this painting had four people in it: the king, the queen, Elsa, and another little girl. The child was a few years younger than Elsa, and she was the spitting image of the king. She had wide-set blue eyes, bright red hair set in pigtails, and a sprinkle of freckles dotting her nose. She wore a pale green dress, and she was clutching Elsa's arm as if she might never let go.”

“I... I remember, she realized. A feeling came over her, so strong that for the smallest of moments, it warmed her soul. Pictures flew through her mind: She and Elsa talking in their bedroom, baking with their mother in the kitchen, running down the central staircase. Do the magic! she heard a voice say, and now she realized it was her younger self begging Elsa to create more snow. Together they had skated around the Great Hall and made snow angels. They had built Olaf! She used to marvel at Elsa's magic and always wanted her sister to use it. Do the magic! she heard herself beg again, and then she saw the moment when everything changed. In her haste to stop Anna from falling off a snow mound, Elsa had accidentally struck her. That was when she and Elsa had been ripped apart. She remembered everything!”

“Gone the longest time you were, you my eyes long haven’t crossed, but my heart, alone from her, different past remembers, lost: how like children we would play, how we laughed without dismay, how the silence wide and lost, was of ours the pleasure most…”

“You made me who I am today, Nanni. Wherever I go, everyone I see and crave is ultimately measured by the glow of your light. If my life were a boat, you were the one who stepped on board, turned on its running lights, and was never heard from again. All this might as well be in my head, and in my head it stays. But I've lived and loved by your light alone. In a bus, on a busy street, in class, in a crowded concert hall, once or twice a year, whether for a man or a woman, my heart still jolts when I spot your look-alike. We love only once in our lives, my father had said, sometimes too early, sometimes too late; the other times are always a touch deliberate.”

“Imagination and recollection of cherished memories of the pastimes are closely related. We do not recall memories verbatim. As our perspective changes regarding our place in the world, we shift through our recollections and revise our memories. People possess the ability to edit their memories by repressing unbearable episodes and highlighting incidences that generate fond memories. How we perceive and comprehend ourselves in the past, the present, and the future shapes our evolving sense of self. Humankind’s ability to repress unpleasant events and humankind’s ability to act as the solo editors of our germinating awareness of the world that we occupy is ultimately responsible for activating our metamorphosing sense of identity.”

“Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn And broils roots out the work of masonry, Nor mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till judgement that yourself arise, You in this, and dwell in lovers eyes.”

“∞ The Unseen Universe A Poem by Alexander Martini We live within the universe. Not far, not foreign. But at its heart. An ocean of stars, a breath of light, a vastness that never ends. And yet — so many do not see it. They rush through their days as if through walls, not noticing that every moment is a window into eternity. The universe is not cold. It is filled with joy, with beauty, with silence that sings. We are not apart from it. We are a part — a tone in its melody, a spark in its dance. Whoever opens their eyes finds not nothing, but everything. And knows: Wonder was always here.”

“Mogu da pokažem to mesto na kojem je stajao. Stan se ubrzo ispunio ljudima: žene su spremale u kuhinji, muškarci pili u trpezariji. Ništa nije trebalo govoriti: svi su već sve znali. Tada je neko zazvonio, a kada sam otvorio, devojka pred vratima upitala me je da li želim da osiguram život. Imala je svetlu kosu i svetle oči; zapazio sam i oblinu kolena. Odmahnuo sam glavom i zatvorio vrata. Anđeli uvek dolaze prekasno.”

“I had written to Ted about the scores of women who had contacted me about their "encounters" with him, although I didn't give specific times or names or places. I commented that he would have had to been superhuman to have been everywhere people "remembered" him. There had been a flurry in the press when campers found a tree in Sanpete County, Utah, with Ted Bundy's name carved in it, and the date: "'78." "I too am familiar with the phenomena of Ted Bundy sightings," he wrote. "Tells you a lot about the reliability of eye-witness identification, doesn't it. Eye-witness id [sic] is the most inherently unreliable evidence used in court. It also tells you a lot about fear.”

“△ Remembrance as the Origin of Humanity A Poem by Alexander Martini Human beings are not finished entities. They are becoming. They are remembering. Not facts, but depth. Not history, but meaning. Forgetting is easy. Remembering is uncomfortable — because it demands that we face ourselves, not as we appear, but as we truly are. The world has lost its way, not because it is blind, but because it no longer recognizes itself. It has forgotten that compassion is not a luxury, but a source. Remembrance is not a looking back. It is a return. To origin. To responsibility. To the possibility of choosing again. Because those who remember begin to transform. Not out of guilt, but out of clarity.”

“Sometimes you just have to step outside the box and take a leap of faith. You may not be able to see what's on the other side, but you can't remain in the same place. Fear is what keeps you there. If you want something badly enough you'll take the steps to get there. If you believe it, then you can achieve it.”

“△ Remembrance of the Whole A Poem by Alexander Martini To remember is not to retrieve facts. It is to reawaken the thread that binds all things. It is to feel the pulse of the universe in your own breath. It is to realize that you are not separate — not from the Earth, not from others, not from the stars. The Whole is not a place. It is a state of being. It is the quiet knowing that every tree, every cry, every act of kindness is part of the same unfolding. To remember the Whole is to dissolve the illusion of isolation. It is to see yourself in the eyes of the stranger, in the pain of the wounded, in the joy of the child. It is to understand that healing one soul heals the fabric of existence. That every choice echoes through the field of all things. The Whole does not ask for perfection. It asks only for presence. For the courage to feel. For the willingness to return. This is not nostalgia. This is awakening. You are not a fragment. You are the Whole, remembering itself.”

“—April— In this distance I hear a heartbeat... The only sound I remember from my last life I listen to it when I am awake or in sleep.... I know it is the heartbeat of my loved one A heartbeat that inspires my heart to beat.. I don't know where you are... where to find We on earth may never meet in real... All I can listen is your heart murmur......”

“Students sometimes tell me. that they're waiting for someone to die before they feel they can write their story. They say this sheepishly, guiltily. As if, in some way, they're wishing for that person to expire, already, so they can get on with the business of writing about them. I try to liberate my students from those tortured thoughts by telling them that they may as well just start now, because it can be more difficult to write about the dead than to write about the living. The dead can't fight back. The dead have no voice. They can't say: But that isn't how it was. You're getting it wrong. They can't say: But I loved you so. They can't say: I had no idea.”

“Carmelina points at the cabin. "What is that?" I follow her finger to the log walls made of matchsticks, the miniature windows. The doorknob has fallen off along the way, but other than that it's intact. A perfect, tiny replica of the cabin in the forest. I can almost hear the Steller's jay, imagine its flash of blue, smell the lemony resin of the cedars. See daisies looped flower to stem upon dark hair. Feel a hand with a broad palm and rough fingers linked with mine. I smile at Carmelina. "That is home.”

“I should have asked why any room in the house was better than home to me when she entered it, and barren as a desert when she went out again—why I always noticed and remembered the little changes in her dress that I had noticed and remembered in no other woman’s before—why I saw her, heard her, and touched her (when we shook hands at night and morning) as I had never seen, heard, and touched any other woman in my life?”

“कसैको यादमा अटाउनलाई मानिसले आफ्नो स्वार्थ बाहिरै छोडेको हुनुपर्छ, किनकि स्वार्थ र सुखद स्मृति एकै ठाउँमा अटाउन सक्दैन ।”

“Praise be to God; whose compassion is all-embracing and Whose mercy is universal; Who rewards His servants for their remembrance [dhikr] [of Him] with His remembrance [of them] - verily God (Exalted is He!) has said, 'Remember Me, and I will remember you' - Opening lines from Kitab al-Adhkar wa'l Da'awat of the Ihya ulum ad-Din”