#memo

True scholarship consists in knowing not what things exist, but what they mean; it is not memory but judgment. ↗

— James Russell Lowell

#exist #judgment #knowing #mean #memory

Happiness and beauty are the worst things you can have in a life, because you never forget them. They go on and on ambushing you, presumably until you die. ↗

— M. John Harrison

#memory #beauty

He put his hand on his forehead and scoured the French department of his memory for a word. He knew it was in there. He'd put it in almost fifty years before and hadn't had cause to remove it. But for the life of him he couldn't find it. ↗

— Colin Cotterill

#getting-older #humor #memory #age

Grief is only the memory of widowed affections. ↗

— James Martineau

#affections #grief #memory #only #widowed

In the life of a singer, it's not all triumphs and happy memories; there are days you have to go out there when it's the last thing you feel like doing. ↗

— Mireille Mathieu

#doing #feel #go #happy #last

Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic. As one tends the graves of the dead, so I tend the books. And every day I open a volume or two, read a few lines or pages, allow the voices of the forgotten dead to resonate inside my head. ↗

— Diane Setterfield

#memories #old-age #reading #age

We are a vibrant first-world country, but we have a humbling third-world memory. ↗

— Mary McAleese

#humbling #memory #third-world #vibrant #world country

We were still young enough to remember the cubist architecture of the piles of corpses we had seen during the war. ↗

— George Konrád

#trauma #war #architecture

My memories are of my dad taking me to football on Saturday mornings, and my mum taking me swimming. Those are the things I remember from my childhood, not sitting around the table debating capitalism and the profit squeeze. ↗

— David Miliband

#capitalism #childhood #dad #debating #football

Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while. ↗

— W.B. Yeats

#hope #literature #memory #poetry #art