William Shakespeare Quotes

She went out and took a last long look at the shabby little library. She knew she would never see it again. Eyes changed after they looked at new things. If in the years to be she were to come back, her new eyes might make everything seem different from the way she saw it now. The way it was now was the way she wanted to remember it.

God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.

The world that birthed that story is long gone, all its people are dead, but it continues to touch the present and future because someone cared enough about that world to keep it. To put it in words. To remember it.

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

Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.

Tell me the truth about death. I don't know what it is. We have them, then they are gone but they stay in our minds. Their stories are part of us as long as we live and as long as we tell them or write them down.

But as long as you remember what you have seen, then nothing is gone. As long as you remember, it is part of this story we have together.

Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.

Something still exists as long as there's someone around to remember it.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.

I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?

As long as we remember a person, they're not really gone. Their thoughts, their feelings, their memories, they become a part of us.

Remember Old Nan's stories, Bran. Remember the way she told them, the sound of her voice. So long as you do that, part of her will always be alive in you.

Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.

Sing Me no songs tell me no tales cry me no tears, but remember me kindly.

Music is...a form of remembering, a return to the seasons of the heart long gone.

I cannot speculate on what our cluttered mind will save- sleepy Sundays, or a nosebleed after love. I know only the dying heart needs the nourishment of memory to live beyond too many winters.

Grace and remembrance be to you both.

A long past vividly remembered is like a heavy garment that clings to your limbs when you would run.

Pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

All we had was her room, her stories, and the quiet that settled in as we tried in vain to spread ourselves out and fill the space she'd left behind.

Egypt loved the lotus becuase it never dies. It is the same for people who are loved. Thus can something as insignificant as a name-two syllables, one high, one sweet- summon up the innumerable smiles, tears, sighs and dreams of a human life.

It is terrible how much has been forgotten, which is why, I suppose, remembering seems a holy thing.

There was a time when you were not a slave, remember that. You walked alone, full of laughter, you bathed bare-bellied. You say you have lost all recollection of it, remember . . . You say there are no words to describe this time, you say it does not exist. But remember. Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, invent.

The past is dead except for the life you give it