Memory is the seamstress, and a capricious one at that. Memory runs her needle in and out, up and down, hither and thither. We know not what comes next, or what follows after. Thus, the most ordinary movement in the world, such as sitting down at a table and pulling the inkstand towards one, may agitate a thousand odd, disconnected fragments, now bright, now dim, hanging and bobbing and dipping and flaunting, like the underlinen of a family of fourteen on a line in a gale of wind.
Rome is possibly my favorite city in the world. I have such fond memories there - most of them food related.
Live with your memories and keep them as memories and that’s great. Forget the bad times just remember the good ones and you know and hope tomorrow is a good day.
Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is best not to stir them.
P. G. Wodehouse
All my memories of being in Las Vegas with Bobby were great. Frank Sinatra brought us to the Sands Hotel in 1965. When we worked that lounge, it was a great lounge. I think it was bigger than the showroom. We were two 25-year-old dumb kids from Orange County in Las Vegas with The Rat Pack.
The Righteous Brothers
Nelson Mandela set his course a long time ago, and in word and deed, years of determination, sacrifice, and faith--he set a new standard in the likes of Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and Martin Luther King, Jr. --changing the world and all of us for the better. I was one of those regular citizens watching when he made his first trip here after being released from prison. Amazing memories. I regret that I never met him in person. May he rest in peace
Earth, Wind & Fire
When the father dies, he writes, the son becomes his own father and his own son. He looks at is son and sees himself in the face of the boy. He imagines what the boy sees when he looks at him and finds himself becoming his own father. Inexplicably, he is moved by this. It is not just the sight of the boy that moves him, not even the thought of standing inside his father, but what he sees in the boy of his own vanished past. It is a nostalgia for his own life that he feels, perhaps, a memory of his own boyhood as a son to his father.
The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant.
Any single historical event is too complex to be adequately known by anyone. It transcends all the intellectual capacities of men. Our practice is to wait until a sufficient number of details have been forgotten. Of course things seem simpler then! Our memories work that way; we retain the facts which are easiest to think about.
B. F. Skinner
People used to say my son looked like a Mexican Biggie. And when he was first born, memories of Biggie... you know, we didn't always have the greatest days. For at least half the length of our marriage we were separated, so everyday was definitely not a good day.
Music seems hard-wired into our very being. It moves us, stirs us to action, sets us in motion, sticks in our memories and minds.
Grief is like the wake behind a boat. It starts out as a huge wave that follows close behind you and is big enough to swamp and drown you if you suddenly stop moving forward. But if you do keep moving, the big wake will eventually dissipate. And after a long time, the waters of your life get calm again, and that is when the memories of those who have left begin to shine as bright and as enduring as the stars above.