Zaza Pachulia Quotes

My first kiss was in the geography room, where you put all the maps. I actually don't know how to say it in English.

I waited for my first kiss.

You know how it is. Every time you kiss someone else, in a way you always remember that very first time.

The theater was the place where I felt my first crush, and it's where I got my first kiss.

I have loved eight women in my life. I remember every woman's face.

Whenever you're in a relationship, you have that favorite song that reminds you of when you first got together or when you first kissed, and then every time you hear that song, it reminds you of that person.

My very first kiss happened when I was 6, underneath some desks during 'nap time', but my first real kiss happened when I was 15 in the parking lot at a Mexican food restaurant.

I played sports. I had boyfriends. I loved high school.

The first girl I kissed was a suburbanite.

My first kiss was actually in a graveyard.

I love telling 'first' stories - first loves, first college experience, first kiss, all of those kinds of things.

When we think of friends, and call their faces out of the shadows, and their voices out of the echoes that faint along the corridors of memory, and do it without knowing why save that we love to do it, we content ourselves that that friendship is a Reality, and not a Fancy--that it is builded upon a rock, and not upon the sands that dissolve away with the ebbing tides and carry their monuments with them.

I'll take lying in your arms tonight over and above any love I've known. Memories may find me, but they'll always be behind me. I'll take today over yesterday, anyday.

It wasn't that long, and it certainly wasn't the kind of kiss you see in movies these days, but it was wonderful in its own way, and all I can remember about the moment is that when our lips touched, I knew the memory would last forever.

Nothing moves a woman so deeply as the boyhood of the man she loves.

Your lips and mine, two sips of wine, memories are made of this.

They held hands and knew that only the coffin would lie in the earth; the bubbly laughter and the press of fingers in the palm would stay aboveground forever. At first, as they stood there, their hands were clenched together. They relaxed slowly until during the walk back home their fingers were laced in as gentle a clasp as that of any two young girlfriends trotting up the road on a summer day wondering what happened to butterflies in the winter.

We live in a world made up more of story than stuff. We are creatures of memory more than reminders, of love more than likes.

Coffee, she'd discovered, was tied to all sorts of memories, different for each person. Sunday mornings, friendly get-togethers, a favorite grandfather long since gone, the AA meeting that saved their life. Coffee meant something to people. Most found their lives were miserable without it. Coffee was a lot like love that way. And because Rachel believed in love, she believed in coffee, too.

I was in the back of the car with my girlfriend, the Rascals came on the radio and I realized their song was sexier than the sex I was trying to have.

I love people, but I love the thought and memory of them just as much.

Time and space may separate us, but not the thoughts and memories that bind us.

There were days - she could remember this - when Henry would hold her hand as they walked home, middle-aged people, in their prime. Had they known at these moments to be quietly joyful? Most likely not. People mostly did not know enough when they were living life that they were living it. But she had that memory now, of something healthy and pure.

I will rememeber you. Will you remember me? Don't let your life pass you by and don't forget all your memories.