Anton Chekhov Quotes

... if one can remember without loving, then couldn't one love without remembering?

Memory has always fascinated me. Think of it. You can recall at will your first day in high school, your first date, your first love.

When I die Dublin will be written in my heart.

When you love something, it never goes away.

I don't know what this feather means, the story of it, but I know it means he was thinking of me. For all these years. He remembered me.

If we can remember the feeling of love we once had, we can die without ever going away.

My memory loves you… it asks about you all the time.

I think about my mother every day. But usually the thoughts are fleeting - she crosses my mind like a spring cardinal that flies past the edge of your eye: startling, luminous, lovely... gone.

If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song.

To feel today what one felt yesterday isn't to feel - it's to remember today what was felt yesterday, to be today's living corpse of what yesterday was lived and lost.

Memory always obeys the commands of the heart.

I have loved eight women in my life. I remember every woman's face.

Do you know what people want more than anything? They want to be missed. They want to be missed the day they don't show up. They want to be missed when they're gone.

If I go into exile, hope remains with me, because I will preserve my people’s affection, which will live in my people’s hearts forever until my last breath.

I always find that nostalgia is sort of like memory without the pain. And that's why it feels so good to kind of bask in that, and I think it can be deceptively comforting.

I'm a deeply romantic person, nostalgic to a fault.

A kiss is often about the future and the past. A lost dream, about the discretion of the idealism.

I always think of my father when I sing arias about loss and love and longing. It gave me that definite deep sorrow that one can only get from life experience, you know?

I can feel his presence here in every stone he has touched, every person he has lifted up, every street and alley and city that he has changed in the few years of his life, because he is the Republic, he is our light, and I love you, I love you, until the day we meet again I will hold you in my heart and protect you there, grieving what we never had, cherishing what we did. I wish you were here. I love you, always.

Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,-not dead, but gone before,- He gathers round him.

In the end, all you want is someone to long for you when it comes time to put you in the ground.

The act of writing is for me often nothing more than the secret or conscious desire to carve words on a tombstone: to the memory of a town forever vanished, to the memory of a childhood in exile, to the memory of all those I loved and who, before I could tell them I loved them, went away.

The entire world is a collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.

Make me remember you like you remember me.

When someone is in your heart, they're never truly gone. They can come back to you, even at unlikely times.