#memo

You can’t just come out and say what you have to say. That’s what people do on airplanes, when a man plops down next to you in the aisle seat of your flight to New York, spills peanuts all over the place (back when the cheapskate airlines at least gave you peanuts), and tells you about what his boss did to him the day before. You know how your eyes glaze over when you hear a story like that? That’s because of the way he’s telling his story. You need a good way to tell your story. ↗

— Adair Lara

#writing-advice #writing-craft #writing-craft

If a woman is given only a limited amount of time to spend with the man she loves, she endures the separation by constantly recalling and reliving every moment down to the finest detail. ↗

— Lucy De Barbin and Dary Matera

#break-up #dary-matera #elvis-presley #endure #love

When the light at Vernon turned green, we stepped into the street and George grabbed my hand and the ghosts of our younger selves crossed with us. ↗

— Aimee Bender

#memory #past #youth #love

I suppose that having lost true love once, I never wanted to replace it with a lukewarm approximation that would only serve to make me remember it forever. ↗

— Paola Kaufmann

#love #lukewarm #memory #true-love #love

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. ↗

— E.J. Koh

#fantasy #fiction #love #memories #scifi

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. From an Irish headstone ↗

— Richard Puz

#death-and-love #death-of-a-loved-one #eternal-love #healing #healing-the-past

were the last words that I wrote for you enough to tell you that in my death the light that shone through my painful darkness was a blinding vision of your eternal smile? cold scalpel's steel whispers tear at my very core as I cling to my memories of you... ↗

— Xavier

#death

It seemed like it was always autumn in this field - it was fitting really. Everything was shaded with the bronzes and yellows of faded pictures from an old photo album, it was a realm where uncomfortable nostalgia reigned. I noticed it more after my experience in the dream. There I was an actor in the play, here I was a spectator. ↗

— Mike Jackson

#death #memory #nostalgia #taven-s-departing #death

When those who name dead people have gone, there just remains the calmness of foreign cemeteries, in which nothing appears familiar and nothing frightens you. ↗

— Ray Loriga

#memories #death

once ruffle-skirted vanity table where I primped at thirteen, opening drawers to a private chaos of eyeshadows lavender teal sky-blue, swarms of hair pins pony tail fasteners, stashes of powders, colonies of tiny lipsticks (p.39) ↗

— Barbara Blatner

#colon-cancer #death #death-and-dying #death-and-sickness #death-at-home