"remembrance"タグの名言

It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.

I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes

People will walk in and walk out of your life, but the one whose footstep made a long lasting impression is the one you should never allow to walk out.

One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.

I have to live if I want to be remembered.

There are two ways to live a life either forget everything or, remember nothing.

It takes a huge effort to free yourself from memory

Because in some other universe, you are me, I am you, and we are perfectly happy together. Or perhaps not… and just like this…

Beauty exists not in what is seen and remembered, but in what is felt and never forgotten.

I have no learning, and you have much,' said Milly; 'I am not used to think, and you are always thinking. May I tell you why it seems to me a good thing for us, to remember wrong that has been done us?' 'Yes.' 'That we may forgive it.

We can’t delete our memories, but we can choose what we remember

Remembrance and reflection how allied! What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.

Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?

Of course he wasn't dead. He could never be dead until she herself had finished feeling and thinking. The kiss of his memory made pictures of love and light against the wall. Here was peace. She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see.

The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones.

When someone dies they can be any age you remember can't they ' she asked. As I tried to think of a reply she continued 'You probably think about the grown-up Tess because you were still close to her. But when I woke up I thought of her when she was three wearing a fairy skirt I'd got her in the Woolworth's and a policeman's helmet. Her wand was a wooden spoon. On the bus yesterday I imagined holding her when she was two days old. I felt the warmth of her. I remembered all her fingers clasped around my finger so tiny they didn't even meet. I remembered the shape of her head and stroking the nape of her neck till she slept. I remembered her smell. She smelled of innocence. Other times she's thirteen and so pretty that I worry for her everytime I see a man look at her. All of those Tesses is my daughter.

You that in far-off countries of the sky can dwell secure, look back upon me here; for I am weary of this frail world's decay.

As if the dead really do persist, even in a bottle of wine.

Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes,      The Parian Statue, bending o'er the Urn,      The dark robe floating, the dejection worn      On the dropt eye, and lip no smile illumes; Not all this pomp of sorrow, that presumes      It pays Affection's debt, is due concern      To the FOR EVER ABSENT, tho' it mourn Fashion's allotted time. If Time consumes, While Life is ours, the precious vestal-flame      Memory shou'd hourly feed;—if, thro' each day,      She with whate'er we see, hear, think, or say, Blend not the image of the vanish'd Frame,      O! can the alien Heart expect to prove, In worlds of light and life, a reunited love!