Memorable Quotes

“..."better to have loved and lost" bullshit. Don't show me paradise and then burn it down.”
― Harlan Coben

“Doubt is a question mark; faith is an exclamation point. The most compelling, believable, realistic stories have included them both.”
― Criss Jami, Killosophy

“When we cannot look through the dusty spectrum of our memory anymore, we must invent the future and create the tools of poignant moments and unique experiences for a memorable time to come. ("Ruling the waves")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“A memorable heart is the easiest way to immortality.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“Fear is a fire to temper courage and resolve. Use it so.”
― Terry Brooks, Running with the Demon

“I was a screen-- I was their protector. The more I saw, the less they would.”
― Henry James, The Turn of the Screw

“People are more likely to remember the great social interaction they had with a colleague than the great meeting they both attended.”
― Ron Garan, The Orbital Perspective: Lessons in Seeing the Big Picture from a Journey of 71 Million Miles

“I've just come to my room, Livy darling, I guess this was the memorable night of my life. By George, I never was so stirred since I was born. I heard four speeches which I can never forget... one by that splendid old soul, Col. Bob Ingersoll, — oh, it was just the supremest combination of English words that was ever put together since the world began... How handsome he looked, as he stood on that table, in the midst of those 500 shouting men, and poured the molten silver from his lips! What an organ is human speech when it is played by a master! How pale those speeches are in print, but how radiant, how full of color, how blinding they were in the delivery! It was a great night, a memorable night.

I doubt if America has seen anything quite equal to it. I am well satisfied I shall not live to see its equal again... Bob Ingersoll’s music will sing through my memory always as the divinest that ever enchanted my ears. And I shall always see him, as he stood that night on a dinner-table, under the flash of lights and banners, in the midst of seven hundred frantic shouters, the most beautiful human creature that ever lived... You should have seen that vast house rise to its feet; you should have heard the hurricane that followed. That's the only test! People might shout, clap their hands, stamp, wave their napkins, but none but the master can make them get up on their feet.

{Twain's letter to his wife, Livy, about friend Robert Ingersoll's incredible speech at 'The Grand Banquet', considered to be one of the greatest oratory performances of all time}”
― Mark Twain, Letters from the Earth: Uncensored Writings

“You're maybe eighteen. Your mother didn't love you enough so you decided to pierce your lip and brand your body to piss her off. You hang around this band because they make you feel like you belong. And most days you wish you were in a band of your own, but you know that probably will never happen." I met his eyes waiting.

I'm twenty. my mother has an assload of tattoos herself, she thinks its art. I have a lip ring because it turns girls on when I do this." He licked his lip, lingering on the metal for a couple intense seconds. My eyes fluttered with nervousness.”
― Holly Hood, Ink

“She remembered her fingers threaded through his hair and his kisses in places that made her long for him years later.”
― Whitney Otto, Eight Girls Taking Pictures

“In 1881, being on a visit to Boston, my wife and I found ourselves in the Parker House with the Ingersoll's, and went over to Charleston to hear him lecture. His subject was 'Some Mistakes of Moses,' and it was a memorable experience. Our lost leaders, -- Emerson, Thoreau, Theodore Parker, -- who had really spoken to disciples rather than to the nation, seemed to have contributed something to form this organ by which their voice could reach the people. Every variety of power was in this orator, -- logic and poetry, humor and imagination, simplicity and dramatic art, moral and boundless sympathy. The wonderful power which Washington's Attorney-general, Edmund Randolph, ascribed to Thomas Paine of insinuating his ideas equally into learned and unlearned had passed from Paine's pen to Ingersoll's tongue. The effect on the people was indescribable. The large theatre was crowded from pit to dome. The people were carried from plaudits of his argument to loud laughter at his humorous sentences, and his flexible voice carried the sympathies of the assembly with it, at times moving them to tears by his pathos.

{Conway's thoughts on the great Robert Ingersoll}”
― Moncure Daniel Conway, My Pilgrimage to the Wise Men of the East

“The word 'ivory' rang in the air, was whispered, was sighed. You would think they were praying to it.”
― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

“You should know that I die slowly with each tear you shed.”
― K.M. Moronova, Once Upon a Demon's Heart

“A memory that costs you something," he said aloud, almost to himself. "One that hurts to remember. That makes you regret what you did or didn't do. Or makes you remember how happy you used to be when they were here. Something that makes you really feel your grief."
Those were the memories that summoned the ghosts: the ones that came at a price, that took a little something from the person remembering. These were emotions complex as flavors, sweet articulated by bitter, acid cutting through umami, fat neutralizing heat.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“The journey had been long and dangerous, and along the way he had met countless travelers, many of whom were so amazing that they must certainly rank among the most original and memorable characters in the history of recorded literature. Which is why it's so sad that there's no time to describe them.”
― Jason Carter Eaton, The Facttracker

“The elflocks of the crowd were every color of the rainbow, as was the light from their eyes that shone through the mask of the Arkadian winter night. Some of them had wings, but not gauzy gossamer tattooist fabulosities. The wing'd ones among them bore twin sails at their backs, reptilian bat bones folded and hooded just above their heads in taloned, Gothic arches of epidermis.”
― Edward Morris, Blood of Eden

“It's not a value judgement. I'm not saying you're good or generous or kind or whatever. I'm just saying you're memorable.”
― John Green, Turtles All the Way Down

“There are always chances available to create memorable and special experiences.”
― Steven Redhead, Life Is A Circus

“There was a dress we always kept in the family---a little girl's dress that once belonged to my great-grandmother. Ashley." Millie hesitated, as though to emphasize the name. "Ashley was just a child when she was sold, and her mother sewed the dress and embroidered a rose like that one on it."
"Kind of reminds me of the color of that huge rosebush at Eliza's old estate in Charleston," Sullivan said, and Peter agreed. "I mean, I know it's comparing a real bush to an embroidered one... but isn't it strange. Eliza would have a bush with that color rose in her yards both here and in Charleston, and a collection of needlework displays with it in her attic?"
Alice shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Roses are very popular flowers and were especially popular during that time period. It certainly could mean something, but I'm more interested in the sequence of the flowers this person chose to embroider and the connection Millie mentioned to that dress." Alice leaned closer.
"Millie, are you sure the stitching is the same?" As a renowned seamstress, Millie's eye could be trusted.
Millie nodded emphatically. "I have no doubt about it," she said. "The gentle curve of the petals. Shows remarkable craftsmanship. I remember admiring it when I was a little girl myself. It's one of the first memories I have of falling in love with textiles.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“But the last time they were all at the orchard together, Birdie only found one lone blossom, drying up. She took it with her and tucked it in her hair.
What mattered was still there. That was what they all felt, and it was what surprised them all. What mattered couldn't be shaken.”
― Jodi Lynn Anderson, Love and Peaches

“Recipes are like architecture; a combination of tested methods with personal elements is what makes a bake memorable.”
― Jessa Maxwell, The Golden Spoon

“Be an expert at doing little things. Your day will be one of memorable living, and this may be the undoing of the insurmountable.”
― Kamini Arichandran

“Whispers reveal, shouts conceal.”
― Amogh Swamy, On My Way To Infinity: A Seeker's Poetic Pilgrimage

“It isn't about perfection, but about richness. It isn't about sweetness, but about love. It isn't about the prettiness of the decorations, but about sharing something you made with your own hands with those you love the most. Those are the qualities of a truly memorable dessert.”
― Karen Hawkins, The Secret Recipe of Ella Dove

“Our holidays began here in Catania, this loud, bustling city pulsing with memories. I know these scenes, like a movie once adored and now almost forgotten. I know the large square lava-stone pavers that line the footpaths. I can smell salty, fishy air coming from the fish market I think is just down the far end of the square. I remember this intense heat, the sea breeze flowing like water between the buildings, down the alleyways, never quite cooling enough.”
― Lizzy Dent, Just One Taste

“A mentor of mine once told me that food is a commonality that binds us all. We all need to eat to survive. But in eating, creating dishes that gave us pleasure, we developed a story of our humanity as well as the story of who we are as individuals. Food is tied to so many of our memories."
"I once read a quote that good food heals our soul."
"The right dish certainly can.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I'd had more than enough of feeling like the heroine in a stage performance. Yet perhaps it was better this way--- the more onlookers, the greater the likelihood the events of the day would be accurately remembered and retold.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Seven Heinz packets dissolved in boiled New York tap. Mix with a plastic spoon in a Styrofoam cup. Serve with broken saltines, if available. Ketchup soup.
He sucked back tears as he stirred.
When the ghost materialized, a kid in his teens, Kostya just wanted to hug him.
That dish was proof--- the aftertastes didn't have to be sophisticated. They didn't even have to taste good. To anyone who tried this Campbell's Tomato knock-off without knowing what it was, it probably ranked somewhere between awful and inedible. But that was the thing about food you ate when you had nothing: the smallest things--- warmth, crunch, calories, someone making it for you, taking care of you even if only in some small way, or making it for yourself, proving that you could survive even when the world didn't want you to--- could make it the best thing you ever ate.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“Food is so powerful; the aromas and flavors tap into a part of your brain that contains visceral memories. I think it's incredible how food is a kind of time machine, a vessel that can move us through space and time instantly. Really, it's our brains--- we're essentially hallucinating when we taste familiar flavors.”
― Emily Arden Wells, Eat Post Like

“She took the box; it was too heavy to be muffins or croissants, and the cardboard bottom was so warm, she felt the heat on her thighs through her sheets. She shot a puzzled glance at Gabe, who remained impishly silent, and pulled the cotton string. She opened it to reveal a fresh-baked whole pie, releasing a mouthwatering aroma of toasty, buttery pastry and a caramelized berry sweetness that was bubbling through the golden-brown crust in dark veins of sticky sugar.
Her stomach growled in response. "Do you have a knife? I'll cut you a slice."
Gabe produced two forks and handed her one. "Who needs slices anyway? This is just for us."
He stripped naked and jumped into bed, bouncing her as she giggled and kept the pie upright. They cozied up next to each other, sitting up against the headboard, and dug in, Gabe first. It felt sacrilegious to defile a pie this way. But it simply smelled too good to resist, and she too poked her fork in the center, shamelessly breaking the sparkly sugared crust and digging into the soft, steaming blueberry filling. Her fork was no match for this glorious pie, and each juicy bite sent a few blueberries tumbling like black pearls, dotting the box and bedsheets in royal purple. The sweet ink of a delicious memory that would excite Iris for years to come.”
― Francesca Serritella, Full Bloom