Best 434 quotes in «forgotten quotes» category

Everything people forget about ends up there one day, they said. Toys, tables, whole houses. And people end up there too. They get forgotten as well.

Every time the long-forgotten people of the past are remembered, they are born again!

Find a place forgotten and make it feel that it is remembered! Find someone forgotten and make him feel that he is remembered!

For a minute, the fantasy frightened her, but ultimately, this fear saved her from feeling alone.

Forgotten hero was never the real hero, real hero can not be forgotten.

I'd forgotten about it, and now I forgot it again. There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living.

He hasn’t only forgiven your sins, he has also forgotten about them. Do not condemn yourself!

How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it! We've started and won two atomic wars since 2022! Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumors; the world is starving, but we're well fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much? I've heard the rumors about hate too, once in a long while, over the years. Do you know why? I don't, that's sure! Maybe the books can get us half out of the cave. They just might stop us from making the same damn insane mistakes!

Human on human crimes should never be forgotten, or dismissed by time. We are all related here and are linked by spirit.

I am everything. I am nothing. I am powerful. I am forgotten.

I can't believe you called me," Anna said. "Nobody else from home has called me in forever. It's like they forgot about me. You think you're so close to people but when it comes down to it, they just forget.

If I can’t be your love, then let me be a simple brooch so I may rest a while against your chest. If I can’t be your love, then let me be a forgotten coin so I may rest a while against your thigh. If I can’t be your love, then let me be an unlit cigarette so I may rest a while in between your lips. If I can’t be your love, then let me at least remain in these words so I may rest a while in your thoughts.

In a polished surface of metal I happen to notice my reflected face; it wears a pale, beaten lonely look, eyes looking out at nothing with an expression of fear, frightened and lonely in a nightmare world. Something, I don’t know what, makes me think of my childhood; I remember myself as a schoolchild sitting at a hard wooden desk, and then as a little girl with thick, fair, wind-tossed hair, feeding the swans in a park. And it seems both strange and sad to me that all those childish years were spent in preparation for this – that, forgotten by everybody, with a beaten face, I should serve machinery in a place far away from the sun.

If you become too readily available to people, they begin to take you for granted; pull away, and they will clamor for you. It's a subconscious thing our society has created in the minds of the masses. This is why most of the "greats" didn't become recognized until after their death. If you're overlook, rejoice, maybe your one of the future greats.

I had seen the few things I cared about forget me seamlessly. I had seen the life I never really fit into heal up around my absence like a wound scabbed over.

...in addition to feeling sick and tired and feverish and nauseated, I also felt forgotten. And there was no easy cure for that.

If we go down the rabbit hole of our unconsciousness and try to unravel the knotty points of our life story we may encounter a bunch of hidden niceties or emotional stowaways. Forgotten details in the windmill of our mind may daintily reveal, where things might have gone wrong. (“I wonder what went wrong.”)

If you are able to forget yourself, you will know you would not be forgotten!

If you believe our cause so hopeless, why join us?" "Because you offered something I had forgotten could be offered, a choice. And I choose to die free.

I’m haunted. We all are, I guess. We’re parentless, friendless, unloved, abandoned. The spirits of our deceased emotional anchors and proofs of existence will follow and demean us until we too roam a quiet lifeless world alongside them — unable to speak — our histories written in beach sand.

It is a valuable thing for an intelligencer to be forgotten.

In one creative thought a thousand forgotten nights of love come to life again and fill it with majesty and exaltation. And those who come together in the nights and are entwined in rocking delight perform a solemn task and gather sweetness, depth, and strength for the song of some future poet, who will appear in order to say ecstasies that are unsayable.

I stare off into space for a minute. "I just wish my life would go back to the way it was." "Why?" "Because I was happy then. Things weren't perfect, but still, I knew where I fit. I knew where I was going." "And you don't feel that way anymore?" "No. I feel kind of...lost in the middle of my own life, if that makes any sense.

It is better to die forgotten defending peace than be remembered eternally for inciting war.

It is amusing, is it not, to want to be both found and forgotten at the same time?

Its really hard to recall the day you became friends with special people.

It’s not a crime to wish for other worlds. You’ll get taxed for it but they can’t throw you in jail for creating your own private world…yet. Dramatics are fun, an indulgence. ‘You can’t go backward,’ ‘You can’t live in the past,’ they tell you. Why not? ‘You’ve got to put all that behind you and move on to other things,’ they say. Bullshit! These are all expressions of modern disposability. It’s a mediocritizing technique—trying to get rid of what I call ‘past orthodoxies.’ It’s our past that makes us unique, therefore it’s our past that economic interests want to rob from us, so they can sell us a new, improved future. Society now depends on a disposable world—out with the old, in with the new, including relationships. But how we weep and wish we could hold onto those cherished moments forever, to those long-whispered dreams, those tortured nights—how we want to grasp them and stop them from sifting through our fingers. I say, ‘Don’t let it happen. Keep things the way you want them and let the rest of the world be duped.

It’s comforting to know that you don’t have to be excellent to not be completely forgotten.

Make someone feel something and you will never be forgotten.

I wish they would all go away. Except the Fool. I wished he would join me. Somehow, I had always thought he would join me. Now, I could not recall why. Perhaps I had buried that in the stone.

Madoka: Won't anyone notice that Mami-san is dead? Homura: Mami Tomoe's only relatives are distant relations. It will be quite some time before anyone files a missing persons report. When one dies on that side of the wards, not even a body is left behind. She'll wind up forever a "missing person"... That is what happens to magical girls in the end. Madoka: ...That's too cruel! Mami-san has been fighting all alone for a long time for everyone's sake! For no one to even notice that she's gone... That's just too lonely a fate... Homura: It is just that kind of contract that gives us the power in the first place. It isn't for anyone else's sake. We fight on for the sake of our own prayer. So for no one to notice... for the world to forget us... That is just something we have to accept.

It was like trying to recall a forgotten dream—each time I felt close to remembering where we’d met, the memories slipped away.

I was ready to leave with every load, with every worthy individual of respectable appearance hiring a cab; but absolutely nobody invited me, not one; it was as if they had forgotten me, as if I was actually something alien to them!

Most sane human beings who have managed to attain and retain fame each uses it to dramatically increase their name’s chances of being remembered until Jesus comes back, since their heart cannot do what they consciously or unconsciously lust for, that is to say, for it to beat until Jesus returns.

Occasionally, I would visit the graveyard in my heart, knowing that some people that were buried there are still alive. I could not help wondering: How many people buried me, too, in the graveyard of their hearts? (Danny Castillones Sillada, Those Sweet and Painful Memories, Inusara Journal)

No matter what happens, I don’t think that anyone will remember me when I disappear. It will be like I was never here. There will be no proof that I ever existed … you can’t be sad if you disappear, because disappeared people can’t feel sad. They can only be remembered or forgotten.

No sound, once made, is ever truly lost. In electric clouds, all are safely trapped, and with a touch, if we find them, we can recapture those echoes of sad, forgotten wars, long summers, and sweet autumns.

Nobody would have anything to do with him. He began to drop things and to trip. He had a shy and hopeful manner in each new contact, and he was always disappointed. Because he NEEDED a friend so desperately, he never found one.

Once in a while I get an email from someone I have met briefly. "You may not remember me," these emails often begin, the hope to be remembered expressed by the acceptance of having already been forgotten.

Okay… okay? We are not the same… we are not fucking the same… I got brain as for you… God has forgotten you!

Past is always afraid of being forgotten because being forgotten means being never-existed in a way!

Only the forgotten are truly dead.

Only you can change your own world. No one else.

On Fame – O Celebrities, do not be upset when people ask you for your autographs. Be upset when they stop.

Peter had just forgotten, the way that Peter did forget about anything that wasn’t right in front of him at the moment.

That thing, that tiny part of The Land of Elyon, is gone but not entirely forgotten. Elyon had his reason for sending you and me on this journey. Sometimes we see something as plain as a dying leaf and our hearts grow sad, but we must always hold true and fight on, Alexa. Whatever happens to us, we will not be forgotten in the end. He will remember us.

Poetry is jealous of you tonight, for as soon as I come to pen a few words, your perfume attacks me in the most civilised manner and I forget myself. I forget the poem. I forget the ...

Secrets are never so dangerous as when they've been forgotten.

She refused at first, saying it would make a mockery of their love. She loved him too much to admit that what she thought of as unforgettable could ever be forgotten. Finally, of course, she did as he asked, but without enthusiasm. The notebooks showed it: they had many empty pages, and the entries were fragmentary.

She wanted to be remembered for doing something great. And her greatest fear was of being completely forgotten.