Old Memories Quotes

To an old memory like mine the present days are but as a little water poured on the deep.

A past may chase you if you try to escape from it... but once you confront it, it's just an old memory inside you. There's nothing to be afraid of.

The worst memories stick with us, while the nice ones always seem to slip through our fingers.

I have more memories than if I were a thousand years old.

The happiest memories are of moments that ended when they should have.

No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.

In memory's telephoto lens, far objects are magnified.

Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember.

Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.

Always have old memories, and young hopes.

The act of smelling something, anything, is remarkably like the act of thinking. Immediately at the moment of perception, you can feel the mind going to work, sending the odor around from place to place, setting off complex repertories through the brain, polling one center after another for signs of re recognition, for old memories and old connection.

I have memories - but only a fool stores his past in the future.

Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.

Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.

She glances at the photo, and the pilot light of memory flickers in her eyes.

There are some people in your life who bring back old memories. And there are others - your first kiss, your first love, your first sex - who, the moment you see them, bring a spark...and something far more potent. They bring back your old life and with that, potential. And possibilities. And the feeling that if you were back in that time, life could be so very different from where you're stuck right now. That's the most tantalizing thing....I want my potential back.

A childhood is what anyone wants to remember of it. It leaves behind no fossils, except perhaps in fiction.

Don't go to eighth grade...don't talk about something old...don't bring up old memories that have nothing to do with who we are now. THIS is all that matters! TODAY.

Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.

The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.

When you're coming up with different ways of getting old memories to transform - you're scratching, you're doing all this kind of sampling - what ends up happening is that you're becoming a kind of writer with sound.

Old memories are very easy to get except that once you write about something you've destroyed it.

The visible world is a daily miracle for those who have eyes and ears; and I still warm hands thankfully at the old fire, though every year it is fed with the dry wood of more old memories.

Leftovers in their less visible form are called memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart.

Why allow all the old memories to have supremacy? Make new ones, memories of such luster and beauty that, should the old ones come back, they would be pallid and impotent in comparison.

He paused again as a tear of longing rolled from cheek to lip with the sweet-salty taste of an old memory.

Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.

Love is . . .” An old memory with Adrian came back to me, and some of the turbulent emotion I always carried within me these days welled up in my chest. It was stupid, feeling so lovesick when he’d been gone less than a day, but I couldn’t get him or the ways he described love out of my head. “. . . a flame in the dark. A breath of warmth on a winter’s night. A star that guides you home.

When women hear those words, an old, old memory is stirred and brought back to life. The memory is of our absolute, undeniable, and irrevocable kinship with the wild feminine, a relationship which may have become ghostly from neglect, buried by over-domestication, outlawed by the surrounding culture, or no longer understood anymore. We may have forgotten her names, we may not answer when she calls ours, but in our bones we know her, we yearn toward her, we know she belongs to us and we to her.

To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking forward.

Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.

We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes into our sight to liberate us into life. Love arrives and in its train come ecstasies old memories of pleasure ancient histories of pain. Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls. We are weaned from our timidity In the flush of love's light we dare be brave And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free.

Some of my old memories feel trapped in amber in my brain, lucid and burning, while others are like the wing beat of a hummingbird, an intangible, ephemeral blur.

That men, in reality, did not have friends in other men. That the fellowship of men, despite its joyous banter, old memories of exaggerated mischief and the altruism of sharing pornography, was actually a farcical fellowship. Because what a man really wanted was to be bigger than his friends.