Memories Quotes - Page 7

La vida son pasos. Y a cada paso que das, dejas algo atrás.

What is damage but forcing yourself, memories of yourself, onto someone else? Coloring someone else’s body. In reality, it’s sort of romantic. It’s why we love to hurt each other.

These are the quicksilver moments of my childhood I cannot remember entirely. Irresistible and emblematic, I can recall them only in fragments and shivers of the heart.

My world is a million shattered pieces put together, glued by my tears, where each piece is nothing but a reflection of YOU.

The heart will stretch a short love into long memories.

I'm chasing a decade old ghost. Searching beneath the rafters of a cobweb-filled haven lined with old memories which my brain cannot accept are dead. The light of nostalgia is burning bright inside my heart. Ignoring the emptiness around me, and hoping for a resurrection of love.

No one deserves to rent your heart, especially those who hurt you. Your heart is precious and deserves to store your great memories!

The thing is that when you find true love.... it lives on.
No matter if you two seperate but the love stays alive; broken, gasping for breath, love and affection, but in agony, waiting for everything to end. But Sadly, It lives on... in memories and thought's.

It's about quality, not quantity. It's about the memories, the bond, the love. It's about the heart.

He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins. As in a party game. Say the words and pass it on. So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.

But it's funny how the memory works and how sometimes we just belive whatever we want.

What they have been teaching us is wrong. Yes, we do have control over our choices. Why? Because life gave us the freedom to choose. The only downside to this freedom are the insatiable consequences we shall have to face because of the choices we learned to embrace.

That’s the trouble with memories: everything seems much more fantastical with a childhood lens to filter out the limitations of reality.

I thought I would marry my boyfriend and grow old and sick of him. I thought I would keep my friends, and we'd make different, new memories. None of that happened. Better things happened. Then why am I so sad?

Without realizing that the past is constantly determining their present actions, they avoid learning anything about their history. They continue to live in their repressed childhood situation, ignoring the fact that is no longer exists, continuing to fear and avoid dangers that, although once real, have not been real for a long time.

The memory of the pain did not destroy the reality of the pleasure; grief did not obliterate joy.

Memories are reality's ghosts

Her father’s shadow looked sadly down at her. “You can never forget what you do in a war, September my love. No one can. You won’t forget your war either.

These memories sustained him, but not so easily. Too often they reminded him of where he was when he last summoned them. They lay on the far side of a great divide in time, as significant as B.C. and A.D. Before prison, before the war, before the sight of a corpse became a banality.

She knew enough to recognize that memories were crowding in, and there was nothing he could do. They wouldn’t let him speak. She would never know what scenes were driving that turmoil.