Best 1588 quotes in «forget quotes» category

Everyone deserves someone who can make them forget their heart was ever broken.

...first, in order to remember, something must be forgotten; second, the place where memories are stored has no boundaries. In other words, forgetting is a twin; its tandem effect is best called "simultancous" distraction, the instant when one memory defoliates another. This fuzzy double - one devouring the other - presumably inhibits learning

Forget all that has passed. Forget all you've heard. Forget all your preconceived fears. See me for who I am, not who you thought I was.

Forgetting about appointments has become a normal aspect of life for me.

Forget everything else. Forget everyone else. You're exactly my kind of girl.

Forget the pain and the one who caused it, but not the lesson you learnt.

Forget yourself, but not lonely days...

Forget your voice, sing! Forget your feet, dance! Forget your life, live! Forget yourself and be!

Forgiveness brings healing.

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

Forget career, forget the future, forget existential worries, just get yourselves a couple of dogs, and everything will be all right.

Forgiveness is a transformative act because it asks you to be a more empathetic and compassionate person, thereby making you better than the person you were when you were first hurt.

Friendship can hurt! And women aren't wired to forget hurt easily, so the loss of a friend can set off a grieving process, just like any other significant loss or change.

For these treasures, and everything that he collected in his lovely house, were to be to him means of forgetfulness, modes by which he could escape, for a season, from the fear that seemed to him at times to be almost too great to be borne.

Funny how you lose sight of some things and memory others.

I bought this the day before at a shopping mall. I didn't want to forget him. Maybe I didn't want him to forget me.

God is like an umbrella of illusion and belief, In rainy days we use him, in sunny days we forget him.

How are you going to forget him if you keep talking about him? Darling, when things go wrong in life, this is what you do. You lift your chin, put on a ravishing smile, mix yourself a little cocktail... and out you go.

How will people remember you when you are gone? And for how long until they forget? Were you selfish or selfless? A gossip or a patient listener? Did you add value to the world, or did you simply take from it? Did you add value to the lives of others, or did you take the value out of someone's life? Were you a plus or negative? Meaningful or meaningless? Do you live to take or live to give?

I am so tired. I have grown old from being serious. I have grown ill from being serious. I want to laugh at myself. I want to forget myself. I am so tired.

I am very happy with all my friends and co-workers, because if they don’t remember me in their happy times or in their success. However, they never forget me if they are in a problem or need my help…

Give me back my lips. I meant to give you a kiss but a kiss turned to a thousand, and a thousand to thousands, and now my lips have left with you. Give me back my hands. They only intended to caress you but they held tight and have forgotten even the very arms they belong to. Give me back my mind. Mind wasn’t even supposed to think of you but you forced yourself into dreams, and those dreams dreamed of your reality and now mind is mindless — less mine more yours. Give me back to myself. I miss my reflection and who I was before I met you. Before I eagerly and lovingly, stupidly and foolishly gave all of myself to you.

GreenHollyWood asked me "How I sleep?", after all, after this horror and terror. The truth is that I close the one eye 1-2 seconds go and then the other... and I sleep. To to don't forget, if we will be friends I enjoy the horror..., I like to see myself scared!?

He'd kept his figure despite being past his first youth. Pretty good for nearly forty. Who was she fooling? She knew quite well that he was thirty-five and a half, exactly five years older than she. Their birthdays were two days apart. It was absurd the way trivial facts lingered in the memory, facts as unimportant as what she had for dinner on Tuesday. Except that she couldn't remember last week's menu and she was annoyingly aware of Max Quinton's preference for lamb over beef, for apple tart over syllabub. He preferred Shakespeare to the modern poets, the country to the town.

Her gaze shifted away. "I don't remember my dreams anymore." It was like she was confessing a dirty secret. And maybe it was, because even though he hated the dreams, each time he had them, he was with his parents again. Hearing their laughter. Watching them live. But when he woke up they were really gone.

I could forget that part, but it had to have been true.

If only you would realize some day, how much have you hurt me, If only your heart ever, craves for me or my presence… If only you feel that love again someday for me, If only you are affected someday by my absence… Only you can end all my suffering and this unbearable pain, If only you would know what you could never procure… If only you go through the memories of past once again, Since the day you left my heart has bled, no one has its cure… If only you would bring that love, those showers and that rain… If only you would come back and see what damage you create, I’ve been waiting for your return since forever more… If only you would see the woman that you have made, You said we cannot sail through, how were you so sure? If only you can feel the old things that can never fade, You may have moved on, but a piece of my heart is still with you… I know how I’ve come so far alone; I know how I’m able to wade, People say that I’m insane and you won’t ever come back again… Maybe you would have never made your separate way, Maybe you would have stayed with me and proved everyone wrong… If only you would know the pain of dying every day, If only you would feel the burden of smiling and being strong…

I do think that men can forget a lost love quickly. I know that women would find it much harder.

If one day she'll forgot the things about me, then I wish we haven't had this chance to know each other.

I forgive you, but I won’t forget what you did…not in some threatening, I don’t really forgive you kind of way… but just because what you did was shitty and really hurt me and I can’t imagine it suddenly disappearing from my memory. In a way, it’s even cooler that I’ll remember that shitty thing you did to me, and you’ll remember that shitty thing I did to you. That means we didn’t need to forget that we hurt each other in order to love each other still. We figured out a way to forgive each other, for real, and still be friends. How beautiful, yes? Let’s never forget that, either.

I don't like this idea It is too much focus on something I am trying to forget I am afraid that this attention to detail will only fuel my anxiety

I forgive and forget because I have a good heart and a terrible memory.

If the ability to make use of experience and draw conclusions decided, we would have forgotten what war is a long time ago. But those whose goal is war have never been held back, nor will be, by experience or analogy.

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

If we feel we are missing out sometimes, it may be because we simply forget to consult the past or neglect to think up its ties with the presence. ("Walking down the memory lane" )

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 have the heart to forgive, but I don't have the mind to forget.

If you can't forgive, forget better.

If You Forget Me if you forsake me I shall forget you too don’t take me for the lone redbud that lay bare behind your window in the garden with branches naked, robbed of life in the dead of winter waiting once again to embrace spring which has forsaken it before.

I hate people who collect things and classify things and give them names and then forget all about them. That’s what people are always doing in art. They call a painter an impressionist or a cubist or something and then they put him in a drawer and don’t see him as a living individual painter any more.

I’m so happy to be back here. You’re nice and quiet. Her waters stirred in something close to laughter. We don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to. I’m happy just to hold you. I sank down, resting on the sandy Ocean floor, legs crossed and arms behind my head. I watched the trails of boats crisscrossing and fading along the surface above me. Fish swam by in schools, not spooked by the girl on the ground. So, about six months? I asked, my stomach twisting. Yes, barring some natural disaster or man-made sinking. I can’t predict those things. I know. Don’t start worrying about that yet. I can tell you’re still hurting from the last time. She wrapped me in sympathy. I lifted my arms as if I was stroking Her, though of course my tiny body was unable to truly embrace Hers. I feel like I never have enough time to get over a singing before the next one comes. I have nightmares, and I’m a nervous wreck during the weeks leading up to it. My chest felt hollow with misery. I’m afraid I’ll always remember how it feels. You won’t. In all My years, I’ve never had a freed siren come back to Me demanding that I fix her memories. Do You hear from them at all? Not intentionally. I feel people when they’re in Me. It’s how I find new girls. It’s how I listen for anyone who might suspect the true nature of My needs. Sometimes a former siren will go for a swim or stick her legs off a dock. I can get a peek at their lives, and no one has remembered Me yet. I’ll remember You, I promised. I could feel Her embracing me. For all eternity, I’ll never forget you. I love you. And I love You. You can rest here tonight, if you like. I’ll make sure no one finds you. Can I just stay down here forever? I don’t want to worry about hurting people unintentionally. Or disappointing my sisters. Aisling has her cottage, so maybe I could build a little house down here out of driftwood. She ran a current down my back gently. Sleep. You’ll feel differently in the morning. Your sisters would be lost without you. Trust Me, they think it all the time. Really? Really. Thank You. Rest. You’re safe.

If you don't write it down, it never happened. Cathy (& Jack) Ryan

Ignorance might be bliss. But self-forgetfulness is pure ecstasy.

I have become intoxicated again. You are such a potent wine, my friend. To escape your withdrawal effects, tomorrow I will drink in excess. Alas, why make me love? I was aware, conscious, and sensible before. I am ill by cause of this illusion. The devil plays tricks on me more and more. I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will. Your score, the nightingale song within notes composed to imprison and bear me wings. Oh, if only they could hear how it sings! I am now beyond parched. My strings left untouched. You are no longer an oasis, my friend, but a mirage soon coming to an end.

I have no use for these other loves. Seal them shut in jars and place them in the pantry. A reserve of love. Thank them for their love. They are so kind. Perhaps store them in the fridge For others to take. They say love is a panacea. I know it is not. Flakes of snow, no two are alike. When I am down on my knees, hopeless and angry, for the world no longer makes sense, I won't look in the pantry or fridge. It is your hand pressing on my shoulder that makes me whole, makes me forget. What trouble? What world?

I hope my forgiveness reminds you, Of the part you forgot to break in me.

I know I’m selfish and willful. Can the two of us have the remains of the memories of just us two? Even if you can’t marry me, I won’t let you forget me. At least, you can’t forget me before I can forget you. -Ruo Xi

I'll forget me. You forget you. We can be one together, happily.

I lived my grief; I slept mourning and ate sorrow and drank tears. I ignored all else.

I love books where I can't wait to turn every page, songs that grab me the first time I hear them, and films that make me totally forget about the craft because I am totally engaged in the story.