Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
The memory is like orbiting twin stars, one visible, one dark, the trajectory of what's evident forever affected by the gravity of what's concealed.
I was raised in a Catholic family, spent twelve years in parochial schools, and had extremely fond memories of my interactions with Catholic clergy.
Truth comes home to the mind so naturally, that when we learn it for the first time, it seems as though we did no more than recall it to our memory.
We looked at the venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and departs forever, but in the august light of abiding memories.
I come from a family who prided themselves, both sides, on memory. And I was told growing up, constantly, that I was born with a really good memory.
Don't resurrect relationships with negative people off of good memories. You will only remind yourself why they became your past in the first place.
I kind of felt I left a good message and memory with the people in terms of my work, and I always felt with a good record, I could always come back.
I have family connections with Salisbury through my godmother. Her sister lived there, so I have very fond memories of visiting the city as a child.
The memories of my time with Jonghyun are precious to me. He's like family to me, so I will never forget him and I will always keep him in my heart.
The general root of superstition is that men observe when things hit, and not when they miss, and commit to memory the one, and pass over the other.
Your brain forms roughly 10,000 new cells every day, but unless they hook up to preexisting cells with strong memories, they die. Serves them right.
I have two lovely sons and some good memories, but I've had a rather tumultuous personal life. It hasn't been dull; I've been the Hiroshima of love.
The night of the WeeLC match was the biggest match of my career. That gave me a ton of amazing memories that will never be able to be taken from me.
I'd say my best memory was climbing Mt. Fuji, and the worst memory was... trying to fit my feet into the free giveaway slippers at Japanese schools.
The book is openly a kind of spiritual autobiography, but the trick is that on any other level it's a kind of insane collage of fragments of memory.
I want to question the images that are in our memory. There is always a double level in my work; what you see is true and at the same time not true.
In that part of the book of my memory before which little can be read, there is a heading, which says: ‘Incipit vita nova: Here begins the new life’.
Ive never really been anywhere, and now I get to go everywhere. I just have to make sure theres enough memory on my computer to hold all my pictures.
Then the Warrior of the Light thanks his traveling companions, takes a deep breath and continues on, laden with memories of an unforgettable journey.
When you put so much effort to forget someone, the effort itself becomes a memory. Then you have to forget the forgetting, and that too is memorable.
I think that objects have memories. I’m always thinking that I’ll go to the museum and see something and have a big memory about some other lifetime.
Like memories. You can make yourself believe that they have been erased. But they are there, if you look closely. If you have a wish to uncover them.
Home is memory, home is your history, home is where you work. Some people want to abandon it and become truly local. But the questions are all there.
That's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory— hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can built off our pasts and make future.
Reciting poetry isn't acting, it's memory work. Actor's are deceivers. People who pretend to be something else for a living aren't right in the head.
The first thing I remember is Alexander Calder - our school took us on a field trip to go see the Calder mobiles, and that always stuck in my memory.
Time is hastening on, and we What our fathers are shall be,-- Shadow-shapes of memory! Joined to that vast multitude Where the great are but the good.
The outsourcing of our memory to machines expands the amount of data to which we have access, but degrades our brain’s own ability to remember things.
People in cities may forget the soil for as long as a hundred years, but Mother Nature's memory is long and she will not let them forget indefinitely.
Nostalgia is eternal for Americans. We are often displaced from our origins and carry anxious memories of that lost past. We fear losing our bearings.
A man, groundly learned already, may take much profit himself in using by epitome to draw other men’s works, for his own memory sake, into short room.
Memories are just stories we tell ourselves about our past; and that's often why they don't match when we've shared the same experiences with someone.
We enjoy this illusion of continuity and we call it memory. Which explains, perhaps, why our worst fear isn't the end of life, but the end of memories
I'm a writer and director, and the movie I've seen a million times is 'Stardust Memories' by Woody Allen, starring Woody Allen and Charlotte Rampling.
A sentence well couched takes both the sense and understanding. I love not those cart-rope speeches that are longer than the memory of man can fathom.
There is no reality of consciousness independent of the effects of various vehicles of content on subsequent action (and hence, of course, on memory).
How confusing the beams from memory's lamp are; One day a bachelor, the next a grampa. What is the secret of the trick? How did I get so old so quick?
Conditions of thought, memory, and desire, persuaded by impulse and irrationality, are influenced as well by personal aesthetics and private meanings.
There was a kindliness about intoxication - there was that indescribable gloss and glamour it gave, like the memories of ephemeral and faded evenings.
Wouldn't you like to have an augmented memory chip that you could plug into your head so you don't have to look everything up and remember everything?
I have an awful memory, and I have a great memory. Meaning that, if I'm trying to remember something, I can't remember it. But my recall is fantastic.
We touched with a softness that pushed through the skin into memory, like arms plunged into a river - we could feel the weight of each other's stones.
Men like my father cannot die. They are with me still, real in memory as they were in flesh, loving and beloved forever. How green was my valley then.
Nothing can be forgotten. Nothing can be lost. The universe itself is one vast memory system. Look back and you will find the beginnings of the world.
Several sorts of memory exist in us; body and mind each possesses one peculiar to itself. Nostalgia, for instance, is a malady of the physical memory.
My first memory is of the brightness of light ... light all around. I was sitting among pillows on a quilt on the ground ... very large white pillows.
I want to go to New Zealand so bad! I have amazing memories of being in that country, of jumping off of a building in Auckland and having so much fun.
The memories stayed with him for so long, and stayed vivid. And it didn't matter to me that he'd already repeated that before. I could hear it forever.
The past is still visible. The buildings haven't changed, the layout of the streets hasn't changed. So memory is very available to me as I walk around.
That past is still within our living memory, a time when neighbour helped neighbour, sharing what little they had out of necessity, as well as decency.