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Category: memory
Quotes of Category: memory
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  1. Lorrie Moore _ Who Will Run the Frog

    I looked in vain for LaRoue, my cruelty toward her now in me like a splinter, where it would sit for years in my helpless memory, the skin growing around; what else can memory do? It can do nothing; It pretends to eat the shrapnel of your acts, yet it cannot swallow or chew.
    book-quotememory

  2. Ann Beattie _ Where You'll Find Me and Other

    This is a story, told the way you say stories should be told: Somebody grew up, fell in love, and spent a winter with her lover in the country. This, of course, is the barest outline, and futile to discuss. It's as pointless as throwing birdseed on the ground while snow still falls fast. Who expects small things to survive when even the largest get lost? People forget years and remember moments. Seconds and symbols are left to sum things up: the black shroud over the pool. Love, in its shortest form, becomes a word. What I remember about all that time is one winter. The snow. Even now, saying "snow," my lips move so that they kiss air. No mention has been made of the snowplow that seemed always to be there, scraping snow off our narrow road - an artery cleared, though neither of us could have said where the heart was.
    book-quotememory

  3. Neil Gaiman _ The Ocean at the End of the

    Memories were waiting at the edges of things, beckoning to me.
    book-quotememory

  4. Neil Gaiman _ The Ocean at the End of the

    Small children believe themselves to be gods, or some of them do, and they can only be satisfied when the rest of the world goes along with their way of seeing things.
    book-quotememorymythpersonal

  5. Angela Carter _ Burning Your Boats: The

    You used to say you would never forget me. That made me feel like the cherry blossom, here today and gone tomorrow; it is not the kind of thing one says to a person with whom one proposes to spend the rest of one's life, after all. And, after all that, for three hundred and fifty-two in each leap year, I never think about you, sometimes. I cast an image into the past, like a fishing line, and up it comes with a gold mask on the hook, a mask with real tears at the ends of its eyes, but tears that are no longer anybody's tears.Time has drifted over your face.
    book-quotememory

  6. Angela Carter _ Nights at the Circus

    Those were her best days, although there was always something feckless about her, something so slack and almost fearful in her too frequent smile, so that when you saw Mignon being happy, you always thought: "It can't last." She had the febrile gaiety of a being without a past, without a present, yet she existed thus, without memory or history, only because her past was too bleak to think of and her future too terrible to contemplate; she was the broken blossom of the present tense.
    book-quotememorythe-present

  7. George Eliot _ Daniel Deronda

    Let my body dwell in poverty, and my hands be as the hands of the toiler; but let my soul be as a temple of remembrance where the treasures of knowledge enter and the inner sanctuary is hope.
    book-quoteknowledgememorywork

  8. George Eliot _ O May I Join the Choir

    O may I join the choir invisibleOf those immortal dead who live againIn minds made better by their presence; liveIn pulses stirred to generosity,In deeds of daring rectitude...
    book-quoteinvisibledeadmemory

  9. George Eliot _ Adam Bede

    What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life--to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?
    book-quotelovedeathmarriage

  10. Markus Zusak _ The Book Thief

    Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.
    book-quotelifefaithmemory

  11. Markus Zusak _ The Book Thief

    ... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.
    book-quotedeathmemoryforever

  12. James Salter _ A Sport and a Pastime

    But of course, in one sense, Dean never died - his existence is superior to such accidents. One must have heroes, which is to say, one must create them. And they become real through our envy, our devotion. It is we who give them their majesty, their power, which ourselves could never possess. And in turn, they give some back. But they are mortal, these heroes, just as we are. They do not last forever. They fade. They vanish. They are surpassed, forgotten - one hears of them no more.
    book-quotetimememoryhero
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