Janet Frame Quotes

There is nothing on earth that could ever make me want to relive certain years of my life when I was young.

Yes, the past is another country, but one that we can visit, and once there we can bring back the things we need.

That parasite: the past.

Everything I loved became everything I've lost.

We suffer equal pain from the pertinacious adhesion of unwelcome images, as from the evanescence of those which are pleasing and useful.

All this money can't buy me a time machine.

The future is a hundred thousand threads, but the past is a fabric that can never be rewoven.

Youth moves out, leaving no forwarding address. No matter how you try, you can't reach that person again or that place.

The present no matter what I brought couldn’t change the past. The Past was set and sealed.

You can't make sense of the present unless a part of you lives in the past.

The only reason people want to be masters of the future is to change the past.

Who we are in the present includes who we were in the past.

I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack;The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back.

One may return to the place of his birth, He cannot go back to his youth.

The great eventful Present hides the Past; but through the din Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life behind steal in.

The Things that never can come back, are several- Childhood-some forms of Hope-the Dead- Though Joys-like Men-may sometimes make a Journey- And still abide-.

The past is not dead; it is not even past. People live on inner time; the moment in which a decisive thought or feeling takes place can be at any time. Timeless feelings are common to all of us.

Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you'll find an edge to cut you.

There is no greater pain than to remember, in our present grief, past happiness.

The present, like a note in music, is nothing but as it appertains to what is past and what is to come.

God is punishing me for my past wickedness by keeping me alive and in as much pain as he can.

But... what about us? What about the past?" she asks blankly. "The past isn't real. it's just a dream," I say. "Don't mention the past.

... we are the products of our past. ... a web of complexities.

No sadness is greater than in misery to rehearse memories of joy.

Memories, you see, hurt. The good ones most of all.