Category Archives: MEMORIES

Today is the bridge between acceptance and faith.

– Jonathan Lockwood Huie

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“We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.”

― Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead

There’s nothing like rejection to make you do an inventory of yourself.

James Lee Burke

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“It was as if, after years of setting aside memories,the pile had grown too high, and had tumbled, obliging her to take an inventory of her life.”
― Loida Maritza Perez, Geographies of Home

Life is not easy. I paint the memory of happiness.

– Anvar Saifoutdinov Quoted by M S Mason in Christian Science Monitor,19 Nov1992.

http://quotes.yourdictionary.com/easy

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“Time is a false thing, meaningless when it’s not attached to colours and people and light because in the dark there is nothing – only the stilted shadows of lie as they wait for the sun.”

― Laekan Zea Kemp, The Things They Didn’t Bury

I am a song bird, I am a meek song bird, I offer my prayer to the Lord.

 

(Quote by – Guru Nanak)

http://www.dumb.com/quotes/birds-quotes/

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For the sake of a few lines one must see many cities, men and things. One must know the animals, one must feel how the birds fly and know the gesture with which the small flowers open in the morning. One must be able to think back to roads in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings which one had long seen coming; to days of childhood that are still unexplained, to parents that one had to hurt when they brought one some joy and one did not grasp it (it was joy for someone else); to childhood illness that so strangely began with a number of profound and grave transformations, to days in rooms withdrawn and quiet and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along on high and flew with all the stars-and it is not enough if one may think all of this. One must have memories of many nights of love, none of which was like the others, of the screams of women in labour, and of light, white, sleeping women in childbed, closing again. But one must also have been beside the dying, one must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises. And still it is not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves-not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them.”

― Rainer Maria Rilke, The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge

Healing requires from us to stop struggling, but to enjoy life more and endure it less.”

– Darina Stoyanova

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“Don’t be ashamed to weep; ’tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.”

― Brian Jacques, Taggerung

There were happy days, with watermelon, and sad days of whiskey.”

― Lewis Nordan

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HALL, TOM T.

How old do you think I am he said I said well I didn’t know
He said I turned sixty five about eleven months ago
I was sittin’ in Miami pourin’ blended whiskey down
When this old grey black gentleman was cleanin’ up the lounge
There wasn’t anyone around ‘cept this old man and me
The guy who ran the bar was watching Ironsides on TV
Uninvited he sat down and opened up his mind
On old dogs and children and watermelon wine
Ever had a drink of watermelon wine he asked
He told me all about it though I didn’t answer back
Ain’t but three things in this world that’s worth a solitary dime
But old dogs and children and watermelon wine
He said women think about theyselves when menfolk ain’t around
And friends are hard to find when they discover that you’re down
He said I tried it all when I was young and in my natural prime
Now it’s old dogs and children and watermelon wine
Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes
God bless little children while they’re still too young to hate
When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line
‘Bout old dogs and children and watermelon wine
[ harmonica ]
I had to catch a plane up to Atlanta that next day
As I left for my room I saw him pickin’ up my change
That night I dreamed in peaceful sleep of shady summertime
Of old dogs and children and watermelon wine.

Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds along the pebbled shore of memory!

John Keats

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“Sometimes I feel alone. Some days are long and hard. But when I look out into this world, I am struck by the impossible beauty of it all. Those billions of magnificent accidents that led us to where we are today, that led us to paper planes and nautilus shells and the tiny, crooked smiles of children. When I think about the small perfections of the world, I have faith that my time will come. I have faith that someday, a warm light will flood over me and I will find peace.”

― Avery Monsen, All my friends are dead

“He felt he was about to experience again some ancient, delicious childhood moment that the steam calliope’s sour hollowness, the stitching hurdy-gurdy accompaniment, and the drum-and-cymbal crash brought almost to the margin of his grasp.”

― Patricia Highsmith, Strangers on a Train

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“We sleep to time’s hurdy-gurdy; we wake, if ever we wake, to the silence of God. And then, when we wake to the deep shores of time uncreated, then when the dazzling dark breaks over the far slopes of time, then it’s time to toss things, like our reason, and our will; then it’s time to break our necks for home.
There are no events but thoughts and the heart’s hard turning, the heart’s slow learning where to love and whom. The rest is merely gossip, and tales for other times.”

― Annie Dillard, Holy the Firm

Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun.”

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“And now my old dog is dead, and another I had after him, and my parents are dead, and that first world, that old house, is sold and lost, and the books I gathered there lost, or sold- but more books bought, and in another place, board by board and stone by stone, like a house, a true life built, and all because I was steadfast about one or two things: loving foxes, and poems, the blank piece of paper, and my own energy- and mostly the shimmering shoulders of the world that shrug carelessly over the fate of any individual that they may, the better, keep the Niles and Amazons flowing.”
― Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures

Autumn is the hush before winter. French

 

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“Look back, hold a torch to light the recesses of the dark. Listen to the footsteps that echo behind, when you walk alone.
All the time the ghosts flit past and through us, hiding in the future. We look in the mirror and see the shades of other faces looking back through the years; we see the shape of memory, standing solid in an empty doorway. By blood and by choice, we make our ghosts; we haunt ourselves.
Each ghost comes unbidden from the misty grounds of dream and silence.
Our rational minds say, “No, it isn’t.”
But another part, an older part, echoes always softly in the dark, “Yes, but it could be.”

― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind. Friedrich Nietzsche

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“But the Australians, what do the Australians do? How do they structure their landscape? For a start they postulate a primal builder, whose work they presume only to interpret: the mythical animal who was active in the “dreamtime,” that is, a primal era, beyond verification, as the name indicates. A time of sleep. The visible landscape is an effect of causes that are to be found in the dreamtime. For example, the snake that dragged itself over this plain creating these undulations, etc., etc. These.. curious Aborigines make sure their eyes are closed while events take place, which allows them to see places as records of events. But what they see is a kind of dream, and they wake into a reverie, since the real story (the snake, not the hills) happened while they were asleep.”

― César Aira, Ghosts

“A secret is a rotting anchor, hidden in deep water. You drop it and convince yourself that it’s safe, tethered beyond sight. In that peculiar comfort, you forget that it binds you. And when a storm rolls in, it will not raise.”

― Michael Reilly, Mississipi

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“Listening to her, one experienced a deep uneasiness as of having avoided an urgent responsibility, like someone who, walking at night along the banks of a stream, catches a glimpse in the water of a white face or a moving limb and turns quickly away, refusing to help or to search for help. We all see the faces in the water. We smother our memory of them, even our belief in their reality, and become calm people of the world; or we can neither forget or help them. Sometimes by a trick of circumstances or dream or a hostile neighborhood of light we see our own face.”
― Janet Frame, Faces in the Water

“Looking at the past is like lolling in a rocking chair. It is so relaxing and you can rock back and forth on the porch, and never go forward. ”

― Martha Graham, Blood Memory

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“I lit a fire and sat there in my rocking chair. We lit a candle for him. It was as simple as that. I knew that what I had done may have been a catalyst in Danny’s death, but I also knew that there was really nothing else I could have done. I can never really lose that feeling. I wasn’t guilty, but I felt responsible in a way. It’s part of what I do. Managing the band and taking care of the music is very painful at times. It’s a sad story. A moment I will never forget, years I can never replace, music the world will never hear, all gone in the turning of a second.”

― Neil Young, Waging Heavy Peace: A Hippie Dream

“Welcome to the island of misfit toys”

― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

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“Mistakes are like the memories you hide in an attic: old love letters from relationships that tanked, photos of dead relatives, toys from a childhood you miss. Out of sight is out of mind, but somewhere deep inside you know they still exist. And you also know that you’re avoiding them.”

― Jodi Picoult, Lone Wolf

There were opium-dens, where one could buy oblivion, dens of horror where the memory of old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were new.

― Oscar Wilde

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“It seemed to her as if her body were altogether too heavy for her; she had the feeling so well known to opium- smokers, which they call "clou’e ‘a terre." It is as if the body clung desperately to the earth, by its own weight, and yet in the same way as a tired child nestles to its mother’s breast. In this sensation there is a perfect lassitude mingled with a perfect longing. It may be that it is the counterpart of the freedom of the soul of which it is the herald and companion.”

― Aleister Crowley, Moonchild

He felt empty, broken, defeated.

Pamela Clare, Breaking Point

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“Remember who you are. When you encounter things you think you can’t deal with, remember all the things you have dealt with before. Remember all your triumphs and all the times you overcame defeat. Remember who you are and use that strength to raise your head high, win or lose”

Gamal Hennessy

Paradise unearned is but a land of shadows!

Silver Surfer Volume 1

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“Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the same horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men. Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.”

Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

As smoking is to the lungs, so is resentment to the soul; even one puff is bad for you. Elizabeth Gilbert

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“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”

Edgar Allan Poe

An extreme improbability.

(Sooner can birds be silent in spring, and the crickets in summer.)

"A Dictionary of Foreign Phrases and Classical Quotations, Comprising Idioms, Proverbs, Maxims

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North Towards Yesterday
Lyn Reeves

What I remember most are the birds,
their riotous music in the early forest,
the way they call to each other all day
and how, in the evening, their homing flight
feathers the sky with shadows.

http://www.dangerouslypoetic.com/jean_ringland_memorial_prize_2009.php

Tamul. — Gruel served in the house of a united family is enjoyable.

"Eastern Proverbs and Emblems Illustrating Old Truths"

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With days of illusions and shattered ideas;
And sleep made restless with alcohol;
The suffering that burdens today with the taste of tomorrow;
And that turns love into a boundless river;

In your presence I have rediscovered the memory of my blood;
And necklaces of laughter hung around our days;
Days sparkling with ever new joys

YOUR PRESENCE

(by David Diop)

http://poetryforpeace.wordpress.com/category/african-poetry/

foto – workers’ cottage raleigh nsw 2010