Memories Quotes
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I have memories of the clearest crystal mountain days imaginable, when we fortunates in the height seemed to be sky people living in light alone.
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We're all just memories of our future selves.
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People use us for their weddings, their university convocations - you become a part of culture. That's a big part of people's lives, and it's actually a really big honor for us. All their memories around that process are stored in Paperless Post.
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My love of baking might have originated with my grandmother. She had a lemon tree growing in her backyard, and one of my favorite memories is of picking lemons together and then baking lemon bars.
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People don't always realize that as a performer, you've got to relive those moments. Memories crash through your brains, and you've got to think about your past and the reason why you wrote the song. All that emotion comes back.
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Favourite stadium? I have good memories of my CL debut at Old Trafford, spectacular atmosphere. The Theatre of Dreams, as they say.
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I have a lot of great racing memories growing up in Europe as a young boy - playing with car parts on my dad's desk, watching the races on Sunday afternoons to try and spot him on TV, even having the chance to go to Formula 1 races where he was working.
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I have such memories; I keep thinking about all the people I worked with. I was in the recording studio and I was talking to one of the engineers who is 24 and they don't know these people. They just absolutely don't know the people and it just tickles me. I don't feel like I've grown up.
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When you discover that you are going to have a child, it stirs up memories of your own childhood.
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My earliest memories are of my father explaining to me the American Dream and how he expected me to do better than he did.
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My first gig was in Philadelphia and I played the drums for my older brothers. That same night, I also played drums for Martha and the Vandellas. Ah, the fond memories of being 14.
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Voters memories will fade some.
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This was a memory I wanted to keep, whole, and recall again and again. When I was fifty years old I wanted to remember this moment on the porch, holding hands with Cameron while he shared himself with me. I didn’t want it to be something on the fringes of my memory like so many other things about Cameron and myself.
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Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.
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Obviously, I have a lot of memories here... but at the same time I'm going to put all my energies into moving forward and doing my best for the Thrashers.
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I miss my Dad. My Dad loved cheesy monster movies, so we'd have Godzilla movie marathons. Those are some of my favorite memories, laughing at how the monster outfits were so bad, like black garbage bags for heads.
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The sun setting on the Ucayali, with the Andean foothills in the background, and the taste of freshly cut papaya in my mouth, restoring a body utterly shattered, made for one of those 'ones to tell the grandchildren' memories.
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There are so many memories for me in Manchester. Everywhere I go, I think, 'I used to have boutiques here, clubs there, restaurants in that area.'
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Memory is more indelible than ink.
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Perfume is magic. It's mystery. We recreate the smell of a flower. Of wood. Of grass. We capture the essence of life. Liquefy it. We store memories. We make dreams.
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And gradually his memory slipped a little, as memories do, even those with so much love attached to them; as if there is an unconscious healing process within the mind which mends up in spite of our desperate determination never to forget.
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I read less of everything now. With only fond memories of others' work, it will be interesting to give my own journal writing a try now.
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Cheerios bring back memories. I actually don't think I ate them much as a kid, though; maybe it's some sort of Jungian memory, I don't know. But they have so much sugar, it's great.
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A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered. You are speaking, Hmán, as if pleasure were one thing and the memory another. It is all one thing.
