Gianluigi Buffon Quotes

Every moment is memorable to me.

Moments are so fleeting; I want to hold on to the good ones.

There are moments of life that we never forget, which brighten and brighten as time steals away.

The things hardest to bear are sweetest to remember.

We do not remember days, we remember moments.

There are certain things that should remain forever pristine in your memory, and that's how I look at Hanauma.

I'm always grateful for any kind of moment that keeps my memories alive and gives me a little taste of the excitement I used to get all the time.

No matter how long we exist, we have our memories. Points in time which time itself cannot erase. Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of their beauty or their splendor. Rather they remain as hard as gems.

The last time you're doing something - knowing you're doing it for the last - makes it even more alive than the first.

Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence? I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. Open your doors and look abroad. From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before. In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across a hundred years.

This is what I like about photographs. They're proof that once, even if just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect.

In theory momentos serve to bring back the moment. In fact they serve only to make clear how inadequately I appreciated the moment when it was here. How inadequately I appreciated the moment when it was here is something else I could never afford to see.

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.

Years from now, when all the junk they got is broken and long forgotten, you'll still have your stars.

A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory.

I don't think it is as much a human foible as it is a human curse that we cannot understand the beauty of a thing until it is gone.

Do you see the Field of Mars, where I walked next to my bride in her white wedding dress, with red sandals in her hands, when we were kids?” “I see it well.” “We spent all our days afraid it was too good to be true, Tatiana,” said Alexander. “We were always afraid all we had was a borrowed five minutes from now.” Her hands went on his face. “That’s all any of us ever has, my love,” she said. “And it all flies by.” “Yes,” he said, looking at her, at the desert, covered coral and yellow with golden eye and globe mallow. “But what a five minutes it’s been.

A bottle of good wine, like a good act, shines ever in the retrospect.

Visiting old haunts is hard on memory. Things shrink, change, and disappear.

The memory of my mother will always be a blessing to me.

I am always nostalgic being in New York. Every neighborhood represents something to me. I lived here until I was 60 years old or so. So it was my life.

Letters are just pieces of paper," I said. "Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish.

As ephemeral as our footprints were in the sand along the river, so also were those moments of childhood caught in the photographs. And so will be our family itself, our marriage, the children who enriched it and the love that has carried us through so much. All this will be gone. What we hope will remain are these pictures, telling our brief story.

The mix in our rooms is so touching: the clutter and the cracks in the wall belie a bleakness or brokenness in our lives; while photos and a few rare objects show our pride, our rare shining moments ... these rooms are future ruins

The town was paper, but the memories were not.