#remember

Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility. ↗

— James Thurber

#chaos #emotional #remembered #tranquility

Actually I don't remember being born, it must have happened during one of my black outs. ↗

— Jim Morrison

#being #black #born #during #happened

A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age. ↗

— Robert Frost

#always #birthday #diplomat #her #man

Remember that the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless; peacocks and lilies for instance. ↗

— John Ruskin

#beautiful things #instance #lilies #most #most beautiful

On this important anniversary, we must remember that while we have come a long way in eliminating barriers, critical work remains to ensure all Americans can live up to their full potential. ↗

— Jim Ramstad

#anniversary #barriers #come #critical #eliminating

Forget the names because names lie but remember me because when you look at me I remember myself. Remember me because I will never forget you. ↗

— Jordan Weisman

#love #remembering #love

When people change, I’m disappointed they’re not who I remember them being. And when people don’t change, I’m disappointed they still are who they were. All people do is disappoint, and I do mean all people.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#disappointment #memory #people #remember #change

But I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her ↗

— Julia Roberts

#love

Marah will come looking for me one day, Kate had said, pressing the journal into my hands. Be with her when she reads it. And my boys… show them these words when they can’t remember me. ↗

— Kristin Hannah

#inspirational #remember #death

I remembered during puberty, through the anorexic mists of intermittent menstrual cycles, that man, my father, lifting Shirley's nightdress over her head and asking her in his mocking way to choose what colour condom she wanted. 'Red or yellow?' Which did she choose? I can't remember. Perhaps she alternated. Perhaps there were other colours. It didn't happen once. It happened again and again. I had no power to stop it. That man, my father, had some control over me. I was drugged by the black silence in that big house, the vile whiff of aftershave, the crushing torment of inevitability. My father fucked Shirley using red or yellow condoms and it was those condoms that brought it all to an end. It was my last realization of the day; any more would have been too much to contemplate. That time when my mother had found used condoms in bedroom, he had admitted, after a pointless burst my father's of denial, that he had been going to prostitutes. That was no doubt true but I can't imagine clients take used condoms away with them; prostitutes would surely get rid of the things. No. My father kept those used condoms as a prize. He was fucking his fourteen-year-old-daughter. He was proud of it. Rebecca welled up with tears. Poor thing, she kept saying. Poor thing. ↗

— Alice Jamieson

#child-abuse #child-rape #child-sexual-abuse #condoms #dissociation