Best 2915 quotes in «remember quotes» category

There is nothing I can do that won’t bring me back to you.

There’s a reason why researchers and organizations like Pew Research are doing the work that they do — they do so to make sure that we don’t forget about the populations that aren’t already in our networks [danah boyd, "An Old Fogey’s Analysis of a Teenager’s View on Social Media," Medium, January 12, 2015].

...there was no point in sighing after what I could not have. It only distracted me from what I did have.

There was something really crazy about the way you said my name.

The soul is like pollen: we remember it. (L'âme est comme le pollen : - Elle fait souvenir d'elle.)

Things it helps me to remember When in a bad mood, keep quiet or still. Baggy jumpers don’t suit you. When you’re tired you get doubtful. Difficulties come in spurts. Listen to the echo of your own voice. Avoid be strident. All aeroplanes go through clouds during their journeys. So do people during theirs. Often greater clarity comes out of confusion. You have to be puzzled before you find a solution. PMS often brings on a crisis of confidence. Ordinariness is restful. If someone is explosive in front of you, be silent. If you feel explosive, be silent.

The world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare.

. . . things whose perishing had been arrested by their power to make her love them.

The survivor spoke to us though, or tried to. Mumbling through that matted brown beard of his, pale as death itself. I can’t say now if it was weakness from his wounds or what it was – but we struggled to understand him. In fact we got nothing intelligible from him at all then. He seemed afraid, like any dying man probably would be, but he did seem more terrified than any dying man I’ve seen before – and I’ve seen a few in my time. Let me tell you, Corsair or not, he grabbed whatever hand would hold his, and clenched it so tight his knuckles turned white! He kept fading out as we carried him on the stretcher board the medics brought with them. Looking back, I think he tried to warn us, poor bastard. He tried to tell us to leave him behind and go, but we wouldn’t listen. We thought we were better than the Corsairs, remember? We thought we would be all moral and upright and try to help him. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ were the last words he said before losing consciousness. At least, those that we could make out. At the end of it all, he was right – as it turned out, we couldn’t even help ourselves.

This book is just a book, about a pound of paper like so many other books. It can be read or ignored. What is the problem with that? Only, if we ignore such books, our civilization will disappear.

This is my home, Cape Breton is my home, and I don’t know if I really want to leave it as much as I might think and I’m sort of scared to leave it all behind, everything I’ve lived with, I have so many memories of all the things I’ve done here and I’m afraid if I leave, I might lose all my memories…

Throughout history, there have been people who mattered more. Some of them, like Ulysses S. Grant and Winston Churchill and Jonas Salk, changed the course of history in grand strokes. Others, like Reuben Styrlund and Dora Salk, made a meaningful difference on a smaller stage...Remembered or not lived out in a small town or on the world's stage, the journey of relevance matters.

Those who remember, remembered live on; those who forget, forgotten are gone.

Through learning at my later date things I hadn't known, or had escaped or possibly feared realizing, about my parents - and myself - I glimpsed our whole family life as if it were freed of that clock time which spaces us apart so inhibitingly, divides young and old, keeps our living through the same experiences at separate distances. It is our inward journey that leads us through time - forward or back, seldom in a straight line, most often spiraling. Each of us is moving, changing, with respect to others. As we discover, we remember; remembering, we discover; and most intensely do we experience this when our separate journeys converge. Our living experience at those meeting points is one of the charged dramatic fields of fiction.

To remember is to disengage from the present.

To be a hero holds honor but to be a legend is to live forever.

To be remembered is, I think, a basic human right. Not one that occurs to a person when it is there, but like a parched throat in the desert when it is gone.

To have been possessed by something so awful and so alien, and then the next morning wake up from it, remember what happened, and realize what I had done, with a clear mind and all my essential moral and ethical feelings intact at that moment, [I was] absolutely horrified that I was capable of doing something like that.

Time has a funny way of helping us come to terms with any event, no matter how horrible.

To be remembered is, I think, a badic human right. Not one that occurs to a person when it is there, but like a parched throat in a desert when it is gone.

To the world, most people are not remembered for being great parents. To the child, without parents, nothing great would have been put into the world.

We are, largely, who we remember ourselves to be

We all remember people the way we want to remember them.

Trust your weapon, it is almost certainly smarter than you are. Remember this and you may yet live.

We are, at least in part, who we remember ourselves to be. Take away our memories, and you take away our selves.

We are part of what society can't bear to remember. Because if they really think about it, if they really look at us and realize the cost we've paid to keep them safe. They can't live with the guilt.

We, as women, have this slight flaw. Yes, admitting it, we are flawed with a faultless memory in regards to the good and bad in men...Stored within our memory banks is every loving gesture and sugar coated word, thoughtful moments, places, arguments, indiscretions, lies all catalogued, timed and dated...The list, for us, is endless... It is not our fault...You give us so much to remember...

We at Apple had forgotten who we were. One way to remember who you are is to remember who your heroes are.

We are what we remember. If we lose our memory, we lose our identity and our identity is the accumulation of our experiences. When we walk down the memory lane, it can be unconsciously, willingly, selectively, impetuously or sometimes grudgingly. By following our stream of consciousness we look for lost time and things past. Some reminiscences become anchor points that can take another scope with the wisdom of hindsight. ("Walking down the memory lane" )

we cannot control what we remember, but we can control how we remember.

We cannot turn away,” Miss Woolf told her, “we must get on with our job and we must bear witness.” What did that mean, Ursula wondered. “It means,” Miss Woolf said, “that we must remember these people when we are safely in the future.” “And if we are killed?” “Then others must remember us.

We have to remember all the time how wonderful life with God is so as not to lose out on our relationship with Him

We do not remember days, we remember moments. -Cesare Pavese

We keep the people we love in our hearts. We never lost them as long as we can remember how it felt to be loved by them.

Well I won't back down No I won't back down You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down

Well we have to. We have to remember everything. If we don’t, by the time we grow up it’ll be gone forever.

We must remember that pain is just the other side of joy. If you avoid all possibilities to pain, you also block all avenues of happiness. It is like writing an examination. If you want to be absolutely sure that you don’t fail, you don’t write the examination. However, by doing so, you also block all your chances of success.

We must seek to keep a right view of Jesus and to remember He is always after greater love.

We remember only what we want to remember.

We need to remember not to give the devil a chance and fall away from God’s grace

We need to remember that God is holding us in His hands, he will lead us to the light

We usually forget who we are and only remember who we want to be.

We stood, holding each other's faces, memorising every last detail. I was deperate with my own need to capture this last, lingering moment, desperate to forget the horrible sink at the pit of my stomach telling me all this would be lost forever once they pulled the chip out. Please don't let me forget.

We trust nature to know what it is doing, but we are not nearly so kind, understanding and trusting of our own rhythms and cycles. It's ridiculous that we are so hard on ourselves. Can we not trust that the very same forces that created the rhythms and cycles of nature created our own? Of course we can. We often don't, but we can, if we remember.

What's his toast?

We will remember, but we will also proceed forward, as we always have.

What God effects in the reconciliation does the work of forgetting without the danger of forgetting. He does better than forget: he remembers our evil in grace as the only read thing it ever could have been. He takes away the flaming sword between us and our self-knowledge, and brings us home to ourselves.

What the mind forgets The scars keep remembering

When people who remember her better than me talk of her, she is always described as headstrong and irresponsible, which, if you think about it, are just different words for untameable. The wind is untameable, and so are rivers, and there is something poetic in that.

When Jonas came to the phone I asked him if he remembered that we used to kiss. "I remember," he said tersely. "Is that why you called?