Even grief recedes with time and grace. But our resolve must not pass. Each of us will remember what happened that day, and to whom it happened. We'll remember the moment the news came -- where we were and what we were doing. Some will remember an image of a fire, or a story of rescue. Some will carry memories of a face and a voice gone forever.— George W. Bush
Unpopular Remember Memorial Day quotations
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
Live with your memories and keep them as memories and that’s great.
Forget the bad times just remember the good ones and you know and hope tomorrow is a good day
The less one remembers about the day before, the more the new day will be unfettered by triviality.
We do not remember days. We remember moments.
They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
We do not remember days, we remember moments. The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.
Sharing tales of those we've lost is how we keep from really losing them.
The power of a song has over people... the simple fact that someone could be having awful day and your song or performance can make that all go away. The way it affects people's lives and how they can remember what was going in their life when they heard a certain song.
A mother's nurturing love arouses in children, from their earliest days on earth, an awakening of the memories of love and goodness they experience in their premortal existence, Because our mothers love us, we learn, or more accurately remember, that God also loves us
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.
Words are even more feeble on this Memorial Day, for the sight before us is that of a strong and good nation that stands in silence and remembers those who were loved and who, in return, loved their countrymen enough to die for them.
DAYS THAT I'LL REMEMBER is a lovingly assembled and beautifully written collection of conversations, observations, and memories of music, friendship, and days gone by. It's good to be back again with John Lennon, his beloved Yoko Ono, and his trusted chronicler and friend Jonathan Cott.
No bought potpourri is so pleasant as that made from ones own garden, for the petals of the flowers one has gathered at home hold the sunshine and memories of summer, and of past summers only the sunny days should be remembered.
We who are left, how shall we look again Happily on the sun or feel the rain Without remembering how they who went Ungrudgingly and spent Their lives for us loved, too, the sun and rain?
I have one sentiment for soldiers living and dead: cheers for the living; tears for the dead.
Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land, God Bless the U.S.A.
Each of the patriots whom we remember on this day was first a beloved son or daughter, a brother or sister, or a spouse, friend, and neighbor.
One of the things I do when I'm very stressed out and I can't get out and I need to do something, I just close my eyes and try to remember what it was like to be in space and to float around. And that sort of brings back all of those good sensations and good memories, and it helps me to get through the day.
I was helped by having a verbatim memory of what happened years ago, even if I can't remember what happened a couple of days ago.
I don't have to tell you how fragile this precious gift of freedom is.
Every time we hear, watch, or read the news, we are reminded that liberty is a rare commodity in this world.
Who kept the faith and fought the fight; The glory theirs, the duty ours.
Lives are not stories. A day, a month, a year, or a lifetime has no plot. Our experiences are only the raw stuff of stories. The beginnings of our lives are arbitrary; usually their endings come too soon or too late for any neat narrative conclusions.We turn our lives into stories, and, in doing so, we can stop them where we choose. Our stories do in a small way what memoirs and autobiographies do on a grander scale: they allow a self-fashioning that gives remembered lives a coherence that the day-to-day lives of actual experience lack. History, of course, also imposes coherence, but the historian works will less malleable stuff than memory. Memoirs are seamless; good histories disrupt.
Devon holds a special place in my heart.
As a child, I normally went on holiday to Bantham and have lots of happy memories from my time there. I used to catch sand eels in the early morning and go fishing for bass throughout the day. I remember a gull taking my bait.
I remember when Martin Luther King was assassinated and riots broke out in the city. We celebrated Palm Sunday on 14th Street. I have a memory of walking down the street with buildings smoldering, and soldiers and cops everywhere. Anyways, it [St. Stephen’s] was a church that really taught me the things I needed to learn to not go to church. But I think it is a church that does great work, I went to a wedding there three days ago.
How many likes you get on a selfie will not be what you remember 10 years down the line. The relationships that you form and the memories that you make and the connections that you make with people day to day are the things you remember.
To me, life is about creating memories.
The regular days kind of just blend in. You have to create special times so that you will always remember them.
Go to a nearby military cemetery and look at the American flags stuck on each grave and think of the person buried there who was killed for global domination or for the blunders and egomania of our leadership. And remember, for every person buried there, 10 more loved that person and were shattered by the loss. Instead of saluting, softly say: 'I'm sorry.' ... We need to make Memorial Day a relic of the past.
I have the worst memory in the world.
I can remember some of my dreams, but later that day, i'll forget them.
All the lessons learned, unlearned; The young, who learned to read, now blind, Their eyes with an archaic film; The peasant relapses to a stumbling tune, Following the donkey's bray; These only remember to forget. But somewhere some word presses, On the high door of a skull and in some corner, Of an irrefrangible eye, Some old man memory jumps to a child - Spark from the days of energy. And the child hoards it like a bitter toy.
I'm really curious about the memory of Nixon for people who grew up under Clinton. What do people remember of him? In his day, the definition of a conservative right-wing president is more like a centrist in our own time. He's also one of our funnier presidents - just a really good character to write about.
From my childhood, I remember a tiny old woman named Mary, made pale and almost translucent by time. Mary's childhood memories extended back to the confusing and violent finale of the Civil War, and she told stories of brutal murders in those days and refused to name some of the killers, as if dead men might still be prosecuted in the late 1950s.
To those of you mourn the loss of a loved one today, my heart goes out to you.
We remember that the blessings that we enjoy as Americans came at a dear cost. Our nation owes a debt to its fallen heroes that we cannot ever fully repay. But we can honor their sacrifice, and we must. We must honor it in our own lives by holding their memories close to our hearts, and heeding the example they set.
I remember the day I started school; my mother's tears as I skipped away; birthdays with candles on the cake, too soon too many abandoned for the mess they made.
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.
Let us drink together, fellows, as we did in days of yore.
And still enjoy the golden hours that Fortune has in store; The absent friends remembered be, in all that’s sung or said, And Love immortal consecrate the memory of the dead.
She wore an ivory-white dress and held the world in her eyes.
I barely remember the priest's words or the faces of the guests, full of hope, who filled the church on that March morning. All that remains in my memory is the touch of her lips and, when I half opened my eyes, the secret oath I carried with me and would remember all the days of my life.
Ice is most welcome in a cold drink on a hot day.
But in the heart of winter, you want a warm hot mug with your favorite soothing brew to keep the chill away. When you don’t have anything warm at hand, even a memory can be a small substitute. Remember a searing look of intimate eyes. Receive the inner fire.