#memo

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

She had always thought the word 'pheromones' made it sound as though molecules were floating in the air, shaped like little fluted horns, ready to attach themselves to the nearest target. Microscopic Edison phonographs flying about, their brassy mouths puckered to sucker onto bare unsuspecting skin. These were what he sent out to her. The pheromones. The eyeless babies of energy. ↗

— Alice Pung

#lust #memoir #love

But you play that passage like it's the -memory- of love. You're so young, yet you know desertion, abandonment. That's why you play that third movement the way you do. Most cellists, they play it with joy. But for you, it's not about joy, it's about the memory of a joyful time that's gone for ever. ↗

— Kazuo Ishiguro

#love #memory #love

I try to walk around without being noticed but I can’t help attracting attention with my pink Mohawk, black clothing and steel toes, and often I’m with Holly and we’re both tall and arrogant. ↗

— Jo Treggiari

#fierce-ink-press #memoir #love

La memoria del corazón elimina los malos recuerdos y magnifica los buenos, y que gracias a ese artilugio logramos sobrellevar el pasado. ↗

— Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

#pasado #recuerdos #love

That made her pause, almost made her want to laugh. She pushed her hair from her face. "God, we're fucked up, aren't we?" His tight features loosened a little. "Yeah, I've been trying to get over it most of my life. I guess I'd had myself talked into thinking I had." "Me, too. I'm sorry," she told him, her shoulders relaxing. "I didn't need to get so pissed off." He cracked a grin, "You did, though, didn't you? I kind of liked seeing you like that. All that fire. ↗

— Eve Berlin

#childhood-memories #love

They are embossed on every song that was a hit that summer, in every novel I read during and after his stay, on anything from the smell of rosemary on hot days to the frantic rattle of the cicadas in the afternoon—smells and sounds I’d grown up with and known every year of my life until then but that had suddenly turned on me and acquired an inflection forever colored by the events of that summer. ↗

— André Aciman

#memory #summertime #love

To be left with only the trace of a memory is to gaze at an armchair that's still molded to the form of a love who has left never to return: It is to grieve, dear reader, it is to weep. ↗

— Orhan Pamuk

#love

...every time I look at you autumn leaves come in between - does it matter they're the color of your hair - or they still fall in my memory?... ↗

— John Geddes

#hair-color #love #memories #love