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Souvenir Quotes

Browse 29 quotes about Souvenir.

Souvenir Quotes

“She knew she was delaying the inevitable- trying to locate Agnete's address- but decided to make a list of things to buy first, looking for shops close to the hotel and purposefully ignoring her uncertain finances. She dunked a sopaipilla in her coffee and brushed powdered sugar from her lips, the plate of chile-flecked fried polenta, chorizo, and eggs already finished. It might not have been a vacation, but it felt like one. She was on her own, eating strange foods, planning to spend money she wasn't sure she had, and no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to her. She had fallen down the rabbit hole. It was easiest to come up with ideas for Saisee, whose pride in her cooking shone in everything she concocted, tossing in a pinch of this and a smidgen of that. Alice had even watched her hold crushed spices in the palm of her hand and blow them gently over the pot. 'My momma taught me that. Best way to get flavor to every part of the pot.' For here there would be white posole and blue cornmeal, a collection of chile powders, and piloncillo, the little cones of unrefined Mexican sugars Alice imagined she might use to make caramelized custard.”

IndependenceGiftSpicesMexican FoodSouvenirAlice KesslerSaisee
Book:The Gravity of Birds
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“Voilà ! Bienvenue dans mon palais ! Comment trouvez-vous ? Etonnant, non ? Tout de même, vous réalisez ? Je suis le propriétaire du château du marquis de Sade et de celui de Giacomo Casanova, les deux plus grands prédateurs de femmes de l'histoire. Moi qui ne suis pas particulièrement attiré par les femmes, c'est un comble, non? Ah, les femmes ! Je les aime, les femmes ! J'ai passé ma vie à honorer leur beauté, à les accompagner à travers mes créations, à leur donner une plus grande place dans notre monde, à les aider à mieux exister dans notre société...”

HumourCelebrityFriendship True And LoyalSouvenir
Book:Pierre Cardin - tellement de choses à ne pas dire
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“Whether he talked or not made little difference to my mood. My only enemy was the clock on the dashboard, whose hands would move relentlessly to one o'clock. We drove east, we drove west, amidst the myriad villages that cling like limpets to the Mediterranean shore, and today I remember none of them. All I remember is the feel of the leather seats, the texture of the map upon my knee, its frayed edges, its worn seams, and how one day, looking at the clock, I thought to myself, 'This moment now, at twenty past eleven, this must never be lost, ' and I shut my eyes to make the experience more lasting. When I opened my eyes we were by a bend in the road, and a peasant girl in a black shawl waved to us; I can see her now, her dusty skirt, her gleaming, friendly smile, and in a second we had passed the bend and could see her no more. Already she belonged to the past, she was only a memory. I wanted to go back again, to recapture the moment that had gone, and then it came to me that if we did it would not be the same, even the sun would be changed in the sky, casting another shadow, and the peasant girl would trudge past us along the road in a different way, not waving this time, perhaps not even seeing us. There was something chilling in the thought, something a little melancholy, and looking at the clock I saw that five more minutes had gone by. Soon we would have reached our time limit, and must return to the hotel. 'If only there could be an invention', I said impulsively, 'that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again." (Rebecca, chapter five)”

LoveTime PassingSouvenir
Author:Daphne du Maurier
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“C’est étrange, se disait-il, que l’on aime les gens, qu’ils disparaissent, et que l’on continue à les aimer, mais dans sa tête, pour soi, sans le leur dire. Comme si le fait de ne plus être en contact n’enlevait rien à leur présence.”

AmourSouvenirCitations FrançaisesCitations De La VieRéflexionLoyauté
Book:Comment trouver l'amour à cinquante ans quand on est parisienne (et autres questions capitales) -
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“« C’est ainsi qu’elle m’a donné le change. Sa pensée accompagnait partout la mienne. J’admirais son goût, sa curiosité, sa culture et je ne savais pas que ce n’était que par amour pour moi qu’elle s’intéressait si passionnément à tout ce dont elle me voyait m’éprendre. Car elle ne savait rien découvrir. Chacune de ses admirations, je le comprends aujourd’hui n’était pour elle qu’un lit de repos où allonger sa pensée contre la mienne ; rien ne répondait en ceci à l’exigence pro-fonde de sa nature. “Je ne m’ornais et ne me parais que pour toi”, dira-t-elle. Préci-sément j’aurais voulu que ce ne fût que pour elle et qu’elle cédât, ce faisant, à quelque intime besoin personnel. Mais de tout cela, qu’elle ajoutait à elle pour moi, rien ne restera, pas même un regret, pas même le sentiment d’un manque. Un jour vient où l’être vrai reparaît, que le temps lentement déshabille de tous ses vête-ments d’emprunt ; et, si c’est de ces ornements que l’autre est épris, il ne presse plus contre son cœur qu’une parure déshabitée, qu’un souvenir… que du deuil et du désespoir. « Ah ! de combien de vertus, de combien de perfections l’ai-je ornée !”

AdmirationAmourSouvenirVertusRenoncement
Book:The Counterfeiters
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“Non ci so proprio fare con le promesse" si disse, pensando a tutte quelle che aveva fatto in passato, a se stessa, agli altri, a suo marito. Pensò a quanto si era sentita invincibile nei confronti della vita, quando le aveva pronunciate. Invece era stata la vita a essere invincibile e a ripresentare, ogni volta, i conti lasciati in sospeso. Con quanta umiltà andrebbero fatte le promesse, pensò, invece ne facciamo sempre tante e nel farle ci sopravvalutiamo. Pensiamo di essere pronti a tutto pur di mantenerle. Poi con il tempo, tra le promesse, compare la parola "tranne" ed è questa che cambia le cose. Sono pronta a tutto tranne a star male, tranne a rinunciare, tranne a calpestare una parte di me, tranne a fare a meno di qualcosa che amo. Tranne, tranne, tranne... finché la promessa diventa un souvenir impolverato del passato.”

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Book:Nuvole di polvere e diamanti senza nome
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