Mother is fading for him, her face receding into shadows, her memory diminishing with each passing day, leaking like sand from a fist.
Our lives are the sum of our memories. How much are we willing to lose from our already short lives by … not paying attention?
What better way to try to begin to understand the nature and meaning of human memory than to investigate its absence?
Even now that he is gone I have him still, in the richness of my memories. I've lived my life again just telling it to you.
I warn you all, hatred is finding fertile soil within me. And in your compassion, in your every good intention, you nurture it.
After all, isn't the purpose of the novel, or of a museum, for that matter, to relate our memories with such sincerity as to transform individual happiness into a happiness all can share?
The one thing to remember about an adventure is that if it turns out the way you expect it to, it has not been an adventure at all.
I had to wonder what sadistic pleasure and entertainment human suffering must provide to the divine game players who decided the fate of their pawns in a board game they made of life.
You put cow dung on my face?’ ‘Every day religiously until you were three. Why else do you think your skin is so clear?
I wash the clothes, rinse them and then scrub them again. Will that square little box do that? I am not using any fancy machines when my hands will do.
There’s a great drought in my village. People are dying. The price of rice and pulses has rocketed. There is no water anywhere. And here, people are complaining about the rain...
It is easy to love people in memory; the hard thing is to love them when they are there in front of you.
Souls were webs of light that contained the essence of a human's life. Memories and loves, children and families. Every moment of life, pressing in
For one entire day I let his kiss burn on my cheek and into my blood and I don't push the memory away... This kiss, these words, they feel like beginning.
But water doesn't care for human sorrows. It flows without slowing or quickening its pace in the darkness of the earth, where only stones will hear.
The world will not spin slower or faster when we have passed through the gate together. What remains is light on water, or a shifting shadow.
In trying to escape the fatality of memory, he discovered with an immense sadness that pursuing the past inevitably only leads to greater loss.
Well, memory can play tricks. Most people, I think, tend to remember the good rather than the bad when someone close to them dies.
The with is shorter than the without, but the with makes the without bearable, as the shadow of memory is long and bright. Let this be a lesson in love.
Every libromancer had a first book. Etched more sharply into my memory than my first kiss, this book had been my magical awakening.
He was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past.
