#memories

I know that attaching memories to books may be going out of the world, but while it lasts, it's a strong record of your life. ↗

— Jeffrey Eugenides

#books #going #i #know #lasts

Basically you come up with the fictional idea and you start writing that story, but then in order to write it and to make it seem real, you sometimes put your own memories in. Even if it's a character that's very different from you. ↗

— Jeffrey Eugenides

#character #come #different #even #fictional

What matters is at the end of life, when you're about to pass into oblivion, that you've at least scratched 'Kilroy was here,' on the last wall of the universe. ↗

— William Faulkner

#making-your-mark #mementos #memories #notice #oblivion

For better or for worse, music is the language of memory. It is also the language of love. ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#memories #music #relationships #romance #love

...strands of your hair and tendrils of the wind spin into nothingness the memories of that day... ↗

— John Geddes

#love #memories #nothingness #poetry-quotes #tendrils

Kimberly Reed explains why this love has transferred to adulthood, saying, "When you love something as a kid, you never stop loving it; you just tuck that love away in a different spot in your heart. ↗

— Nikki Van Noy

#love

Oft in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shown Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken. (from When the Splendor Falls by Laurie McBain) ↗

— Thomas Moore

#reflection-on-happier-times #remembering-loved-ones #love

I try not to remember them but very often memories force themselves on my consciousness; they are like stubborn relatives who invite themselves over even when you've made it clear that they are unwelcome. ↗

— Palash Krishna Mehrotra

#love

I shall remain thankful to you for the tenderness of your arms that held me when I wept onto your shoulder, and that held me throughout that winter, after every bicycle accident and every B minus. I discovered Bulbul that you could make everything all right, by blowing softly over scraped knees… but one such winter day, by which time our childhood heroes had become older men with ordinary problems, I might’ve confessed to being in love with you and you, in a moment of ruthless propriety, had pretended not to hear.’ ('Left from Dhakeshwari') ↗

— Kunal Sen

#love #love

The man went to the controls, looking up at me, flaring his nostrils to my actions. His voice was like a voice under water. “We’ll see what becomes of your rebellious nature when you lose your memories, Rei Lin.” He punched a few buttons and turned the knob on the wall to the right. ↗

— Millicent Ashby

#saain #nature