Memories leave a light in the eyes, just as plain as scars.
Kat RichardsonTell the story, gather the events, repeat them. Pattern is a matter of upkeep. Otherwise the weave relaxes back to threads picked up by birds to make their nests. Repeat, or the story will fall and all the king's horses and all the king's men. . . . Repeat, and cradle the pieces carefully, or events will scatter like marbles on a wooden floor.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldYet whenever I think of light, I’m always reminded of her.
Winna EfendiI want to fill my mind with life-enhancing, positive, beautiful memories. The dark experiences can remain buried without a funeral.
Alexandra StoddardTag: memories
The question is, shall it or shall it not be linear history. I've always thought a kaleidoscopic view might be an interesting heresey. Shake the tube and see what comes out. Chronology irritates me. There is no chronology inside my head. I am composed of myriad Claudias who spin and mix and part like sparks of sunlight on water. The pack of cards I carry around is forever shuffled and re-shuffled; there is no sequence, everything happens at once. The machines of the new technology, I understand, perform in much the same way: all knowledge is stored, to be summoned up at the flick of a key. They sound, in theory, more efficient. Some of my keys don't work; others demand pass-words, codes, random unlocking sequences. The collective past, curiously, provides these. It is public property, but it is also deeply private. We all look differently at it. My Victorians are not your Victorians. My seventeenth century is not yours. The voice of John Aubrey, of Darwin, of whoever you like, speaks in one tone to me, in another to you.
Penelope LivelyOur spirit is mightier than the filth of our memories.
Melina MarchettaTag: strength past hurt spirit memories
I think Wordsworth was as surprised to see me as I was him. It can't be usual to go to your favorite memory only to find someone already there, admiring the view ahead of you.
Jasper FfordeHe pulled his hand back, aware now that sweat beaded on his forehead and that Rale watched him, his eyes dark, intense. Errol licked his lips. Did he want a drink? He hadn't gone more than two days in a row without a drink since he was...since...Warrel...the quarry...stone.
Patrick W. CarrTag: drinking memories stone intense-desire intense-emotions errol
A photo frame with many pictures is the best present ever for a long trip. I can almost feel all those moments..
W.Tag: friends love sad memories missing photo homesickness trip missing-friends
But all memories, no matter how distant, no matter how distorted, have the shadow of truth underneath. Even the most imperfect memory is a window—
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