#memory

From key signature to coda, from downbeat to the sound of life's final fermata, our pasts set the tone for all that was, that is, and that ever would be. ↗

— Jamie A. Hughes

#music #past #poetry #life

They, like me, like all of us, had, once upon a time, in a past so far away it seemed like heaven, caught by chance a glimpse of an inner essence, only to forget what it was. It was this lost memory that pained us, reduced us to ruins, though still we struggled to be ourselves. ↗

— Orhan Pamuk

#memory #life

So if existence was just binary, dead or alive, here or not here, what would be the fucking point in anything? My mom used to say that's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory--hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can build off our pasts and make futures. ↗

— Isaac Marion

#memory #life

I skimmed the pond scum with a spoon like broth in a soup bowl. Why does everything have to remind me of her? 
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#love #memory #nostalgia #pond #remind

For sailors who love the wind, memory is a good port of departure. ↗

— Eduardo Hughes Galeano

#nostalgia #past #sea #love

Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lost ↗

— Kevin Arnold

#love #memory #love

You remind me of a boy I used to know Same Smile, same easy, laid-back style And man, could he kiss Blew my mind the very first time His lips touched mine. You remind me You remind me of a boy I used to like. Same eyes, strong arms, same open mind And man, could he dance Arms around me, lost in a trance I'd hear his heart You remind me I'm scared of you How did you find me? Turn and walk away 'Cause you remind me You remind me of a boy I used to love Same laughter and tears, shared through the years And man, how he felt Made my bones more than melt He touched my soul. You remind me I'm scared of you How did you find me? Turn and walk away 'Cause you remind me ↗

— Malorie Blackman

#similarities #song-writing #love

Will I see you at all?” He shook his head. But he couldn’t yet make himself move away. He was unwilling to relinquish his hold on her, unwilling to say that final good-bye. He held her for a minute, then two, then three, simply holding her and committing to memory what he could not have in life. There was a sweet, comforting scent to her. His memory was very, very good, but she was better. He only loosened his grip when he feared he might not be able to let go of her at all. ↗

— Courtney Milan - Unraveled

#life

আমাদের সেই কথোপকথন, সেই বাক্যালাপগুলি গ্রন্থিত করলে পৃথিবীর একটি শ্রেষ্ঠ প্রেমের কবিতা হতে পারতো; হয়তো আজ তার কিছুই মনে নেই আমার মনে সেই বাক্যালাপগুলি নিরন্তর শিশির হয়ে ঝরে পড়ে, মৌমাছি হয়ে গুনগুন করে স্বর্ণচাঁপা আর গোলাপ হয়ে ঝরতে থাকে; সেই ফুলের গন্ধে, সেই মৌমাছির গুঞ্জনে আর কোকিলের গানে আমি সারারাত ঘুমাতে পারি না, নিঃশ্বাস ফেলতে পারি না ↗

— Mahadeb Saha

#memory #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