Best 434 quotes in «forgotten quotes» category

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!

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.

Make someone feel something and you will never be forgotten.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

Only the forgotten are truly dead.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

The best thing the universe ever gave us is that we'll all be forgotten.

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

Some part of me knew that was important. That once it would have mattered terribly to me.

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.

The Almost Forgotten Human Language is ‘Feeling.

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.

Sometimes a woman has experienced too much life to have any blush left in her cheeks, but the man who puts it there is someone not easily forgotten.

The good and the beautiful is not forgotten; it lives in legend and in song.

The dead no longer existed. Except in story. Some stories were modest in scale, existing in a single family or a small community of believers who whispered among themselves so their loved ones would not be forgotten. Others were so powerful they would transform the very fabric of the world.

The problem with catching dreams is you forget how truly incredible they are when you live with them everyday.

The missing missing were people who dropped off the face of the earth and kept on going, with no one in their lives who noticed, or no one in their lives who cared. When they were found dead, with no means of identification, it was almost as though they’d been born that way.

The only true dead are those who have been forgotten.

The only walls that exist are those you have placed in your mind. And whatever obstacles you conceive, exist only because you have forgotten what you have already achieved.

The pain of what happened next lives in our collective memory. It mauls our souls each day. Yet it must be told. Silence guarantees no healing. It promises that the child's life would be forgotten and that its mission might, one day, be thought significant. Silence is the enemy of history, and history is all we have.

The question ‘Don’t you remember me?’ is awkward, especially if it was asked by someone you have never known.

The real reason the number of things that are shared via social media every single minute is so astronomical is because, whenever they each do, most users do not share or say something because they believe they have something worth remembering; they do mainly or only because they fear being forgotten.

There are many unspeakable words, forgotten, or forbidden. Great thanks to the poets who make them all become reachable.

There's nothing special about this place, he thinks. We all forget. Then we forget what we forgot. And that's how we survive.

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.

There's something about these obscure vignettes of former lives that's very powerful. Our woods are full of old cellar holes, tumbled-down chimneys, ancient scraggly lilacs absurdly tall still stretching toward the light.

Tomorrow is a memory best forgotten.

There was a super-8 steel town somewhere, where all the forgotten things in the cruel world ended up eventually, Mandy was sure of it… this place, she decided, was called Smog City.

The sensation of a thing forgotten but resonating.

The world is a forgotten place.

To forget would mean the things we never knew had never waited to be known, never waited to be forgotten, had never been; waiting beneath the long dead stars in time. . .

TIME: The Forgotten Fundamental Force Of Nature.

To be forgotten by the one to whom you never forget is the worst thing ever happens.

Your choices are very essential; without a better choice, you are risking to drive a destination whose name you know, but address you forget!

We see everything you all forget. All the happiness, all the pain, everything that simply slips away.

Why didn't you write all this time? Did you not remember us in a song? A dance? In the skies littered with stars? Did you not get drunk? Why didn’t you write all this time? Did you not remember us in a film? A book? In idyllic dusks and dawns? Did you not get high? It is good that you didn't. For all is well. I am drunk and dazed. I have already forgotten you and your bewitching ways.

You're forgiven." I don't deserve her. "But not forgotten," I whisper. She'll never forget what I did. It's not humanly possible. Sometimes I want the impossible. Her expression doesn't change. "My head is undiscriminating with the memories it keeps, but my heart has already forgotten.

We have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; but thou shalt not know thyself. We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forgot.