I try to construct a theory of how a moral person should live in these circumstances, and how such a person should love.
Memories are who we are, Tul. In the end, that’s all the luggage you take with you. Love and memories are what last.
Her light was so brilliant it burned my guilty shadow onto the floor, but I was not blinded.
...she would have walked all the way up to East Sixty-Third Street, and probably 163rd Street, if it meant pouring even more into this memory that wasn't a memory.
It seemed there was no end at all to the lies a person could tell, once she got started.
Away from the bright motion of the party, she carried her sadness like a dark stone clenched in her palm.
The power of things inheres in the memories they gather up inside them, and also in the vicissitudes of our imagination, and our memory--of this there is no doubt.
It's not evil, Rand. I know something evil when I smell it. This isn't evil, it's just incredibly stupid.
A life, a history, whole patterns of existence altered, simply by doing nothing. The silent lie. The act of omission.
Memories are either the greatest poetry, when they are memories of a vital happiness, or a burning pain, when they touch dried wounds. p. 479
Picard only saw the movie, which had the entire Tales of the Black Starship subplot removed for time.
She was also a memory, the worst kind of memory--the kind that pulled you to your knees at just the sound of her name.
Memory is essential to who we are, and memories can be both implicit and explicit - unconscious and conscious.
And, as always happens, and happens far too soon, the strange and wonderful becomes a memory and a memory becomes a dream. Tomorrow it's gone.
Life is just packed full of memories, the more memories you create, the richer your life becomes ! J Moulds
Our life is a hope which is continually converting itself into memory and memory in its turn begets hope.
Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.
After all these years, I feel so free. Who knows where I might fly?
The most vital things in the look of a landscape endure only for a moment. Work should be done from memory; memory of that vital moment.
All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the Shadow and the Breaking of the World. And him they named Dragon.
Tick-Tock Tick-Tock Memory The tick tock tick tocks goes the clock The memory in my heart not aged but I am aged, As the tick tock tick tock goes on.
