George MacKay Quotes

The past is always knocking at the door, trying to break through into today.

Antiquity! thou wondrous charm, what art thou? that being nothing art everything? When thou wert, thou wert not antiquity - then thou wert nothing, but hadst a remoter antiquity, as thou calledst it, to look back to with blind veneration; thou thyself being to thyself flat, jejune, modern! What mystery lurks in this retroversion? or what half Januses are we, that cannot look forward with the same idolatry with which we for ever revert! The mighty future is as nothing, being everything! the past is everything, being nothing!

The past is always with us, for nothing that once was time can ever depart.

Someone, I tell you, in another time will remember us

I don't believe necessarily the past is in the past. It's eternal, it's all around us.

Sometimes the past seems too big for the present to hold.

It takes only a few seconds to make history new again.

A strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, and the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.

The past is where its supposed to be.

Legends are all to do with the past and nothing to do with the present.

The past is really almost as much a work of the imagination as the future.

The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memorized glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow's past.

We are tomorrow's past.

There is always something rather absurd about the past.

I only remember the future.

History takes time... History makes memory.

History hath triumphed over time, which besides it nothing but eternity hath triumphed over.

Nothing is forever, but history is forever.

Stories are for joining the past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories ar for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story.

Time isn't just a fleeting thing. It never moves forward without engraving its mark upon the heart.

The past is more than a memory.

Not everything was lost in the flow of time

We possess nothing certainly except the past

The past seems to infuse into the present, and in the brown, wringled faces of the old people one sees the presence of the past.