Steve Toltz Quotes

Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim; Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him!

I wondered if there would ever be a day when I didn't think about Alaska, wondered whether I should hope for a time when she would be a distant memory - recalled only on the anniversary of her death, or maybe a couple of weeks after, remembering only after having forgotten.

No, I don’t live in heartache. I don’t cry myself to sleep or any of that. I am, I tell myself, over it. But I do feel a void, icky as that sounds. And—like it or not—I still think about her every single day.

Love is short, forgetting is long, and understanding longer still.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Heart-aches are forgotten, tears lose their bitterness, and like a leaf of lavendar in a store of linen, so does Memory make life sweet.

These are the intensities that one cannot live with, that he has to outgrow if he wants to survive. But who can help grieving for them? If the blood vessels could hold them, how much better to keep those early loves with us?

The punctuation of anniversaries is terrible, like the closing of doors, one after another between you and what you want to hold on to.

Back to him she would never go, but in her lonely life still lived the sweet memory of that happy time when she believed in him and he was all in all to her.

I only felt a cold wind blow while I tried to hang on to the past.

It's impossible to compete with the dead. I wished I could stop trying.

To forget someone means to think of him.

Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it.

No need to be sentimental to mourn the loss of Paradise.

Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.

I remember the way we parted, The day and the way we met; You hoped we were both broken-hearted And knew we should both forget.

I drug your ghost across the country, and we plotted out my death. Every city and memory we whispered "Here is where you rest." Well I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees And I settled for a telephone, sang into your machine: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

It wasn't that I forgot Hanna. But at a certain point the memory of her stopped accompanying me wherever I went. She stayed behind, the way a city stays behind as a train pulls out of the station. It's there, somewhere behind you, and you could go back and make sure of it. But why should you?

No more memories, no more silent tears. No more gazing across the wasted years. Help me say goodbye.

Letting go of someone we love is the hardest thing we will ever do. Some people never surrender to love for the fear of being hurt. But to not have loved, to not have felt the immense joy it brings, would have been a far worse kind of death.

It's such a colossal effort not to be haunted by what's lost, but to be enchanted by what was.

She must face her grief where the struggle is always hardest-in the place where each trivial object is attended by pleasant memories.

Holding onto something that's gone only makes a sickness inside.