#memo

I had been riding horses before my memory kicked in, so my life with horses had no beginning. It simply appeared from the fog of infancy. I survived a difficult childhood by traveling on the backs of horses, and in adulthood the pattern didn't change. ↗

— Monty Roberts

#beginning #childhood #horses #infancy #memory

Love was like notches on a speaker that could be cranked up and down, the decibels of desire, the frequencies of feeling. Sometimes she thought that she might have cranked it all the way up and broken the dial before the music had even started. ↗

— Alice Pung

#memoir #love

With a nearly desperate sense of isolation and a growing suspicion that I lived in an alien land, I took to the road in search of places where change did not mean ruin and where time and men and deeds connected. ↗

— William Least Heat-Moon

#travel #change

Forgetting! It is a form of suicide, a renunciation of the only good the we truly and ineluctably possess: the past. For if joys alone were forgotten, perhaps oblivion would be justly desired. But we are proud and jealous of our sorrows, we love them, we want to remember them. It is they that comprise the crown of life. ↗

— Igino Ugo Tarchetti

#fosca #memory #sorrow #trans-lawrence-venuti #life

What is it like to wear another person’s skin?” “I don’t have a good answer for that,” I said. “It hurts.” “Can you remember their stories? Can you feel the love that they felt? ↗

— Andrew Davidson

#memory #pain #skin #love

لا يمكن للحب أن يكون مبكرًا أبدًا ↗

— Isabel Allende

#memoir #love

As an adult, getting paid thousands of dollars a week to say, “Aye, Sir. Course laid in” is a seriously sweet gig, but when I was a teenager, it sucked. ↗

— Wil Wheaton

#humor #memoir #star-trek #life

She hops expectantly into the sink. I turn on the tap for her; she laps without a glance in my direction, like a duchess so used to being ministered to that she no longer notices the servants and sees only a world where objects dumbly bend to her wishes, doors opening, faucets discharging cool water, delicious things appearing in her dish. ↗

— Peter Trachtenberg

#memoir #love

The kiss stayed there with no place to go, no sensory reserve that could absorb it and file it away as a common act of intimacy, a thousand times received. He knew what Anna was asking: whether you could love someone without habits. ↗

— Nicole Krauss

#love #memory #love

Love is motion Potter love is forward movement but you said yourself the memory reel backward it's all backward with you. You are stuck back there because Potter you don't let yourself move forward your eyes get stuck on things and people. ↗

— Kyle Beachy

#love #memory #movement #life