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Reminiscence Quotes

Browse 80 quotes about Reminiscence.

Reminiscence Quotes

“The cloudless day is richer at its close; A golden glory settles on the lea; Soft, stealing shadows hint of cool repose To mellowing landscape, and to calming sea. And in that nobler, gentler, lovelier light, The soul to sweeter, loftier bliss inclines; Freed form the noonday glare, the favour’d sight Increasing grace in earth and sky divines. But ere the purest radiance crowns the green, Or fairest lustre fills th’ expectant grove, The twilight thickens, and the fleeting scene Leaves but a hallow’d memory of love!”

“[O]ne has to have endured a few decades before wanting, let alone needing, to embark on the project of recovering lost life. And I think it may be possible to review 'the chronicles of wasted time.' William Morris wrote in The Dream of John Ball that men fight for things and then lose the battle, only to win it again in a shape and form that they had not expected, and then be compelled again to defend it under another name. We are all of us very good at self-persuasion and I strive to be alert to its traps, but a version of what Hegel called 'the cunning of history' is a parallel commentary that I fight to keep alive in my mind.”

“It smelled of baking cakes, which sent her back to the kitchen of her childhood, coming home from school to find her mother in the kitchen, making cookies... but it also smelled medicinal, and that made her think of being ill and being looked after when she was tucked in bed. Then there were spices, and a faint hint of Christmas---nutmeg, perhaps, and cloves---but underneath all of those was something else, something insidiously smooth and emollient, like vanilla or eucalyptus. She had a sudden memory of kissing her father's cheek as he bent to say good night, the rasp of his five-o'clock shadow and that smell... She had it now: it was the smell of his cologne, the smell of his business suits, the smell of her parents' bedroom and the big double bed and the terrifying, dark thought of what went on there. But after another moment she relaxed. There were comforting smells in there too: apples and brandy and crisp butter pastry and cinnamon.”

“Entering the room, Lily was struck by the changes that had been wrought since she had last been there on the night of her abduction. Though his massive four-poster bed remained, the coverings were now a mixture of midnight blue and a mysterious smoky gray. In fact, various shades of gray had been added throughout the room. The two heavy leather chairs had been beautifully reupholstered in a dove-gray damask, a plush rug in a light and misty color was laid before the fireplace, and on a delicate table between them stood a large vase of lilies, infusing the room with their delicate scent. "Do you see?" the earl asked from behind her. Once they entered the bedroom, he had released her hand to close the door, ensconcing them together in the private space. Lily turned to watch him walk toward one of the new chairs. He ran his fingers over the fabric. "The color of your eyes when you are quiet and content," he stated in a low voice, then he crossed to the bed where he smoothed his palm over a velvet coverlet. "This is the darker shade your eyes become when you are aroused- with emotion or desire." He looked at her, and Lily's world expanded on a sudden breath at what she saw in the depth of his gaze. They both seemed rooted in place, standing in the center of his bedroom, staring at each other with their breaths coming fast and their focus locked upon each other, as though they were equally afraid the other might disappear. "You exist in everything. You have become a part of me," he murmured thickly. "I cannot breathe without you.”

“We came from some place and we are trending in a particular direction. Without memories, we do not know where we come from, and we cannot project our future trajectory. Without a keen awareness of our history, we cannot pose any meaningful hypothesis or engage in any useful speculation regarding the future of humankind. Without knowing where humankind came from and failing to contemplate where humankind is going, we could never touch upon a comprehensive understanding of the mythology and mystery of human nature. Such a spectacle would preclude us from comprehending what it truly means to be human. Melodious memories assist us to feel in our bones what being actually entails in its full aesthetic splendor.”

“We are what we remember. If we lose our memory, we lose our identity and our identity is the accumulation of our experiences. When we walk down the memory lane, it can be unconsciously, willingly, selectively, impetuously or sometimes grudgingly. By following our stream of consciousness we look for lost time and things past. Some reminiscences become anchor points that can take another scope with the wisdom of hindsight. ("Walking down the memory lane" )”

“I remember when Vianne Rocher first moved into town all those years ago. That window, papered in orange and gold, just like a Chinese lantern. That scent of spices, and incense smoke, like something from the Arabian Nights. So many things have changed since then: now Vianne and I are almost friends. But how I resented that little shop, with its brightly colored awning, and the scent of vanilla and allspice and the bitter rasp of raw cacao drifting out into the air. How I longed to step in, to taste the wares in those glass cases! Now, I tell myself, I could. But though I do not fast for Lent, chocolate still seems one indulgence too far.”

“If I had known how much I would miss these sensations I might have experienced them differently, recognized their shabby glamour, respected the ticking clock that defined this entire experience. I would have put aside my resentment, dropped my defenses. I might have a basic understanding of European history or economics. More abstractly, I might feel I had truly been somewhere, open and porous and hungry to learn. Because being a student was an enviable identity and one I can only reclaim by attending community college late in life for a bookmaking class or something.”

“When I look at a pumpkin muffin, I see the brilliant orange glow of a sugar maple in its full autumnal glory. I see the crisp blue sky of October, so clear and restorative and reassuring. I see hayrides, and I feel Halloween just around the corner, kids dressed up in homemade costumes, bobbing for apples and awaiting trick or treat. I think of children dressed as Pilgrims in a pre-school parade, or a Thanksgiving feast, the bounty of harvest foods burdening a table with its goodness. I picture pumpkins at a farmer's market, piled happy and high, awaiting a new home where children will carve them into scary faces or mothers will bake them into a pie or stew.”

“Zo zal ik vertrekken', zegt Germaine. 'Ik ben het oude hart van een dorp waar niemand komt wonen. Ik zal stoppen met kloppen en het weinige wat ik heb gekend en nog niet is verdwenen, zal verdwijnen. Daar kan ik om wenen en vloeken zo veel als ik wil en dat zal er niets aan veranderen. Maar ik zal gelukkig zijn en weten dat ik heb gedaan wat ik kon', lacht ze met tranen in de ogen. Om zich een houding te geven schuifelt ze naar de wasbak.”

“…the sad part is, that I will probably end up loving you without you for much longer than I loved you when I knew you. Some people might find that strange. But the truth of it is that the amount of love you feel for someone and the impact they have on you as a person, is in no way relative to the amount of time you have known them.”

“রাত তখন প্রায় আড়াইটে। রূপোর মতো চাঁদ পশ্চিম আকাশে হেলে পড়েছে বিশাল পাকুড়্গাছের পেছনে। মৃদু হিমের ছোঁয়া বাতাসে, কী যেন কী কত কথা মনে পড়ে যায়। মনে হয় মৃত্যু আর অন্ধকার সত্য, কিন্তু তাঁর চেয়েও বড় সত্য মুক্ত জীবনের আনন্দ।”

“Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds it’s way back to you.”