#memo

Not an agent kiss, not anything remotely resembling a peck-on-the-cheek kiss, but a let's-get-started kiss. One that even in hardened, love-tired Los Angeles had a better-than-even shot of producing a happy finish ↗

— Diana Dempsey

#love

Treacherous people do not last only memories of their treason last. So will it last with emotions mixed, of love and hate for treacherous ones. ↗

— Amit Abraham

#memories #treacherous #treason #love

When I first met Billy I thought about sucking his eyes right out of their sockets. They’re like turquoise gum drops. ↗

— Jo Treggiari

#fierce-ink-press #memoir #love

Oft in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shown Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken. (from When the Splendor Falls by Laurie McBain) ↗

— Thomas Moore

#reflection-on-happier-times #remembering-loved-ones #love

I try not to remember them but very often memories force themselves on my consciousness; they are like stubborn relatives who invite themselves over even when you've made it clear that they are unwelcome. ↗

— Palash Krishna Mehrotra

#love

Her love of words is a private passion - one she would rather not share. In the house of her childhood though everything had to be shared. If she tried to hold anything back, they would search and find the hidden places. Her written words, discovered, read were just the source of more pain and punishment. This was why she loved poetry. They did not always understand it so they left it alone. ↗

— Bell Hooks

#memoir #poetry #writing #love

This evening, which I have tried to spirit away, is a strange burden to me. While time moves on, while the day will soon end and I already wish it gone, there are men who have entrusted all their hopes to it, all their love and their last efforts. There are dying men or others who are waiting for a debt to come due, who wish that tomorrow would never come. There are others for whom the day will break like a pang of remorse; and others who are tired, for whom the night will never be long enough to give them the rest that they need. And I - who have lost my day - what right do I have to wish that tomorrow comes? ↗

— Alain-Fournier

#existentialism #memory #temporality #time #love

The future reshapes the memory of the past in the way it recalibrates significance: some episodes are advanced, others lose purchase. ↗

— Gregory Maguire

#memory #mind #mind-games #men

How prudently most men creep into nameless graves, while now and then one or two forget themselves into immortality. ↗

— Wendell Phillips

#immortality #memory #slavery #men

I shall remain thankful to you for the tenderness of your arms that held me when I wept onto your shoulder, and that held me throughout that winter, after every bicycle accident and every B minus. I discovered Bulbul that you could make everything all right, by blowing softly over scraped knees… but one such winter day, by which time our childhood heroes had become older men with ordinary problems, I might’ve confessed to being in love with you and you, in a moment of ruthless propriety, had pretended not to hear.’ ('Left from Dhakeshwari') ↗

— Kunal Sen

#love #love