#memo

How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, When memory plays an old tune on the heart. ↗

— Eliza Cook

#echoes #heart #how #memory #old

My book 'Trust Your Heart', which is the story of my life, will be followed by 'Singing Lessons', a memoir of love, loss, hope, and healing, which talks about the death of my son and the hope that has been the aftermath of the healing from that tragedy. ↗

— Judy Collins

#aftermath #been #book #death #followed

I was asked to memorise what I did not understand; and, my memory being so good, it refused to be insulted in that manner. ↗

— Aleister Crowley

#being #did #good #i #insulted

A boy from Brooklyn used to cruise on summer nights. As soon as he’d hit sixty he’d hold his hand out the window, cupping it around the wind. He’d been assured this is exactly how a woman’s breast feels when you put your hand around it and apply a little pressure. Now he knew, and he loved it. Night after night, again and again, until the weather grew cold and he had to roll the window up. For many years afterwards he was perpetually attempting to soar. One winter’s night, holding his wife’s breast in his hand, he closed his eyes and wanted to weep. He loved her, but it was the wind he imagined now. As he grew older, he loved the word etcetera and refused to abbreviate it. He loved sweet white butter. He often pretended to be playing the organ. On one of his last mornings, he noticed the shape of his face molded in the pillow. He shook it out, but the next morning it reappeared. ↗

— Mary Ruefle

#life #love #memories #age

The hurricane flooded me out of a lot of memorabilia, but it can't flood out the memories. ↗

— Tom Dempsey

#flooded #hurricane #lot #me #memorabilia

And there's the Victoria Memorial, built as a memorial to Victoria. ↗

— David Dimbleby

#memorial #victoria

I accomplished something big and that's a memory I will never forget. ↗

— Gabby Douglas

#big #forget #i #memory #never

Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most beautiful prizes slip through it. ↗

— Georges Duhamel

#beautiful #full #holes #memory #most

That first year in Chicago was one of the most memorable in my career. Getting traded rejuvenated me, and I had something to prove. I wanted to show them what I could do. ↗

— Dennis Eckersley

#chicago #could #first #getting #had

Dipping into the archive is always an interesting, if sometimes unsettling, proposition. It often begins with anxiety, with the fear that the thing you want won't surface. But ultimately the process is a little like tapping into the unconscious, and can bring with it the ambivalent gratification of rediscovering forgotten selves. Rather than making new pictures why can't I just recycle some of these old ones? Claim "found" photographs from among my boxes? And have this gesture signify "resistance to further production/consumption"? (96) ↗

— Moyra Davey

#memory #life