Listen with your heart, you will understand.— Pocahontas
Tempting Memorial For Loved One quotations
Some days I wish I could go back in life. Not to change anything, but to feel a few things twice.
May tender memories soften your grief, May fond recollection bring you relief, And may you find comfort and peace in the thought Of the joy that knowing your loved one brought... For time and space can never divide Or keep your loved one from your side. When memory paints in colors true, the happy hours that belonged to you.
I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death.
They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.
Your mind will always believe everything you tell it. Feed it hope. Feed it truth. Feed it with love.
Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves.
So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.
Treacherous people do not last only memories of their treason last.
So will it last with emotions mixed, of love and hate for treacherous ones.
Mourning is one of the most profound human experiences that it is possible to have... The deep capacity to weep for the loss of a loved one and to continue to treasure the memory of that loss is one of our noblest human traits.
One day, you will wake up and there won't be any more time to do the thing you've always wanted. Do it now.
Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves.
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.
But if you don't have that memory of being loved, you are condemned to search the world for something to fill you up. But no matter how much money you make or how famous you become, you will still feel empty. What you are really searching for is unconditional love, unqualified acceptance. And that was the one thing that was denied to you at birth.
The secret to living well and longer is: eat half, walk double, laugh triple and love without measure.
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.
If you're lucky enough to fall in love, that's one thing.
Otherwise all that was ever truly beautiful to me was boyhood. It's the meal we sup on for the rest of our lives. Love puts the icing on life. But if you don't find it...you must call on your childhood memories over and over till you do.
If a man loves a woman for her beauty, does he love her? No;
for the smallpox, which destroys her beauty without killing her, causes his love to cease. And if any one loves me for my judgment or my memory, does he really love me? No; for I can lose these qualities without ceasing to be.
You're a work of art. Not everyone will understand you, but the ones who do, will never forget about you.
The words we choose can build communities, reunite loved ones, and inspire others. They can be a catalyst for change. However, our words also have the power to destroy and divide: they can start a war, reduce a lifelong relationship to a collection of memories, or end a life.
For no one, in our long decline,So dusty, spiteful and divided,Had quite such pleasant friends as mine,Or loved them half as much as I did. stanza 3The library was most inviting:The books upon the crowded shelvesWere mainly of our private writing:We kept a school and taught ourselves. stanza 15From quiet homes and first beginning,Out to the undiscovered ends,Theres nothing worth the wear of winning,But laughter and the love of friends. stanza 22You do retain the song we set,And how it rises, trips and scans?You keep the sacred memory yet,Republicans? Republicans?stanza 36
[Words] cling to the very core of our memories and lie there in silence until a new desire reawakens them and recharges them with loving energy. That is one of the qualities of love that moves me most, their capacity for transmitting love. Like water, words are a wonderful conductor of energy. And the most powerful, transforming energy is the energy of love.
Everyone comes with baggage. Find someone who loves you enough to help you unpack.
The last four years have not diluted the memory or weakened the resolve of our citizens. Four years later, our hearts still hurt for the families whose loved ones were murdered that day.
Much like photographs, I also love the idea that ghosts are memories frozen in time. We can be haunted by both just as horrifically. One really becomes a metaphor for the other.
How far would you go for someone you love ? Well, when my grandkids ask me how I pledged my love to their grandma, I'll say, I told her I would die for her, after I found out I didn't have an incurable disease. Then, I ran away while grandma was getting her ass kicked by a pregnant woman that grandpa slept with. You never know when you're making a memory.
One bad chapter does not mean your story is over.
For all that Tron wanted to be, it ultimately had to be a fun ride for the audience and I was going to be one of the comic characters, and he was really on top of that. He was having such a good time doing it. That's my memory of it. I'd love to work with him again. I think he's great.
Pain itself can be pleasurable accidentally in so far as it is accompanied by wonder, as in stage-plays; or in so far as it recalls a beloved object to one's memory, and makes one feel one's love for the thing, whose absence gives us pain. Consequently, since love is pleasant, both pain and whatever else results from love, in so far as they remind us of our love, are pleasant.
If you will take me for your wife, Walter, I will love you dearly.
If you will let me go with you, Walter, I will go to the world's end without fear. I can give up nothing for you - I have nothing to resign, and no one to forsake; but all my love and life shall be devoted to you, and with my last breath I will breathe your name to God if I have sense and memory left.
I hope to arrive to my death, late, in love and a little drunk.
Thanks for the memory Of lingerie with lace, Pilsner by the case And how I jumped the day you trumped my one-and-only ace How lovely it was!
I'd love to follow the Tour de France one day.
It's a really exciting spectacle. I've only seen it once as it was coming into Paris and that was very exciting for me. I have memories of that.
For you who came so far; for you who held out, wearing a black scarf to signify grief; for you who believe true love can find you amidst this atlas of tears linking one town to its own memory of mortar, when it was still a dream to be built and people moved there, believing, and someone with sky and birds in his heart said this would be a good place for a park.
Remember how far you've come, not just how far you have to go. You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be.
For the Tintin books were my emotional universe.
To read them felt quite simply like being loved: in advance and by an entire world of pure possibility, my future. But to write to the author was to reach out for the lover. Even today, the power of reading one remains visceral: each book acts as a form of transportation, not just to the emotional landscape of this first literary love affair but to very specific memories.
Our life is our prayer. It is our gift to the universe, and the memories we leave behind when we someday exit this world will be our legacy to our loved ones. The best thing we can do for ourselves and everyone around us is to find our joy and share it!
I have always had a love for American geography, and especially for the landscapes of the South. One of my pleasures has been to drive across it, with no one in the world knowing where I am, languidly absorbing the thoughts and memories of old moments, of people vanished now from my life.
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
I love the combination of smartness, pain, and what one might call conscious postmodern trashiness in this book: a version of the erotic full of nervous tension which animates the sensuality, and also Zimroth's feeling for words, compressed, ironic, withholding, but also 'asking for it . . . the siege, the thrill, the battle fatigue.' A profoundly urban book, of harsh memory and fantasy, set in harsher reality.
Love for one's country is part of faith.
I've met a man and fallen in love with him.
I allowed myself to fall in love for one simple reason: I'm not expecting anything to come of it. I know that, in three months' time, I'll be far away and he'll be just a memory, but I couldn't stand living without love any longer; I had reached my limit.
Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic.
We were impelled to remain loyal for a while to the memory of Penny.
It was a form of the old fashioned custom of going into mourning. It is not a question of going around with a long face. It is just a question of having a pause between the old and the new. No haste to find a substitute for the one who has given you love for years. Wait, and let fate provide the answer.
I regard a love for poetry as one of the most needful and helpful elements in the life-outfit of a human being. It was the greatest of blessings to me, in the long days of toil to which I was shut in much earlier than most young girls are, that the poetry I held in my memory breathed its enchanted atmosphere through me and around me, and touched even dull drudgery with its sunshine.
Do you ever think of moving back?" "To Coldwater? Heck, no.
England suits me fine. These Brits love my accent. The first time Gavin asked me out it was just to hear me talk. Lucky for him, it's one of the things I do best." All teasing left her eyes. "Too many memories back home. Can't drive down the street without thinking I see Scott in the crowd.
Love or hatred calls for self-surrender.
He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories.
As I watched Bill, waiting with apparent calm for death to come to him, I had a flash of him as I'd known him: the first vampire I'd ever met, the first man I'd ever gone to bed with, the first suitor I'd ever loved. Everything that followed had tainted those memories, but for one moment I saw him clearly, and I loved him again.