Remembering Loved Ones Quotes

Quotes tagged as "remembering-loved-ones" (showing 1-26 of 27)
Kristin Cashore
“If we knew a person was going to die, we'd hold harder to the memories."

Fire corrected him, in a whisper. "The good memories.”
Kristin Cashore, Fire

Amor Towles
“On those we love:
"Every year that passed, it seemed a little more of her had slipped away; and I began to fear that one day I would come to foget her altogether. But the truth is: No matter how much time passes, those we have loved never slip away from us entirely.”
Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow

Io Sakisaka
“No matter how many times you say you'll give up with words, if your heart still says "love", there's nothing to be done.”
Io Sakisaka

E.E. Cummings
“the other guineahen
died of a broken heart and we came to New York.
I used to sit at a table,drawing wings
with a pencil that kept breaking and i kept
remembering how your mind looked when it slept
for several years,to wake up asking why.
So then you turned into a photograph

of somebody who’s trying not to laugh
at somebody who’s trying not to cry”
E.E. Cummings

Lois Lowry
“He called after her as she walked away on the path.
"Alys? Why were we dancing?"
"Take your mind there again," she called back. "You'll remember!"
To herself she murmured, shaking her head with amusement as her eyes twinkled at her own memory.
"Only thirteen. But we was barefoot and flower-strewn and foolish with first love.”
Lois Lowry, Son

Tessa Shaffer
“Heaven left a hole in your heart.

But it’s up to you to choose if that hole will be filled with pain, anger, and the eternal darkness of loss . . .
Or if you will choose to fill it with light and love and have that hole shine out of you like a spotlight into your life, keeping their memory alive . . .

{It’s up to you.}”
Tessa Shaffer, Heaven Has No Regrets

Thomas   Moore
“Oft in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shown
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken.

(from When the Splendor Falls by Laurie McBain)”
Thomas Moore

Steve Goodier
“After you are gone, people may forget most of what you have said and done. But they will remember that you loved them.”
Steve Goodier

Michael Rosen
“This is me being sad.
Maybe you think I'm being happy in this picture. Really I'm being sad but pretending I'm being happy. I'm doing that because I think people won't like me if I look sad.”
Michael Rosen

Soheir Khashoggi
“Well, memory can play tricks. Most people, I think, tend to remember the good rather than the bad when someone close to them dies.”
Soheir Khashoggi, Nadia's Song

Elizabeth McCracken
“I'm thinking of that Florida lady again, the one who wanted a book about the lighter side of a child's death, and I know: all she wanted was permission to remember her child with pleasure instead of grief. To remember that he was dead, but to remember him without pain: he's dead but of course she still loves him, and that love isn't morbid or bloodstained or unsightly, it doesn't need to be shoved away.”
Elizabeth McCracken, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination

Ellen Oh
“I am left with pieces of remembering though I loved him whole.”
Ellen Oh, A Thousand Beginnings and Endings

Lisa J. Shultz
“My dad’s life was magnificent, but only if I let myself see and remember more than his years of decline.”
Lisa J. Shultz, A Chance to Say Goodbye: Reflections on Losing a Parent

Anthony Marra
“He is very good at chess,” the girl snapped, and glared at Akhmed. Grammar was the only place the girl could keep her father alive, and after amending Akhmed’s statement, she leaned back against the wall and with small, certain breaths, said is is is. Her father was the face of her morning and night, he was everything, so saturating Havaa’s world that she could no more describe him than she could the air.”
Anthony Marra, A Constellation of Vital Phenomena

Cristen Rodgers
“I release ribbons of gratitude to flow back upon the path I have walked as it stretches out behind me, so they brush past everyone whose path crossed my own. May they feel the brief kiss of remembrance within their hearts, there and then gone again, passing like a spring breeze, so that they suddenly know the things they have done for others, in so many ways big and small, seen and unseen alike, somewhere are known and treasured.”
Cristen Rodgers

Anthony Marra
“Akhmed summoned the arborist with small declarative memories, and Sonja let him go on longer than she otherwise would because she, too, had tried to resurrect by recitation, had tried to recreate the thing by drawing its shape in cinders, and hoped that by compiling lists of Natasha’s favorite foods and songs and annoying habits, her sister might spontaneously materialize under the pressure of the particularities.”
Anthony Marra, A Constellation of Vital Phenomena

Anthony Marra
“In the months before the repatriation her heart had hardened around her sister’s absence, letting her love Natasha in memory as she could never love her in reality.”
Anthony Marra, A Constellation of Vital Phenomena

Bangambiki Habyarimana
“The only way anyone can hope to live after death is if he leaves something that posterity can remember him for.”
Bangambiki Habyarimana

“How shall I remember thee? As a drop of eternal summer, or a blossom of tender spring? As a spark of autumn's stirring fire, or perhaps as the frost of winter's longest night? No, it shall not be as one of these, for these shall all come to pass, and you and I, though parted by sea and earth, will never fade.”
Rebecca Ross, The Queen's Rising

Kenny Porpora
“She likes to write messages on balloons and send them to the sky. She takes out a black Magic Marker and she starts writing on the dozen or so balloons, one for each member of our family who died. She doesn't think she can write well and asks me not to read her notes.

She likes to think they'll soar all the way to heaven. I think she knows they end up tangled in power lines or deflated in a pile of orange leaves in someone's backyard miles away, but I can never bring myself to say that to her. I've often wondered what they must think, those people who find our balloons. I've wondered if they read the messages and understand what they mean.

I remember watching those balloons as a little boy, each fall, wondering if someday I, too, would be nothing but a balloon in the sky, soaring toward the sun until I began to fall slowly back to earth and into the hands of a stranger.”
Kenny Porpora, The Autumn Balloon

Anna Seward
“Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes,     
The Parian Statue, bending o'er the Urn,     
The dark robe floating, the dejection worn     
On the dropt eye, and lip no smile illumes;
Not all this pomp of sorrow, that presumes     
It pays Affection's debt, is due concern     
To the FOR EVER ABSENT, tho' it mourn
Fashion's allotted time. If Time consumes,
While Life is ours, the precious vestal-flame     
Memory shou'd hourly feed;—if, thro' each day,     
She with whate'er we see, hear, think, or say,
Blend not the image of the vanish'd Frame,     
O! can the alien Heart expect to prove,
In worlds of light and life, a reunited love!”
Anna Seward, Original sonnets on various subjects; and odes paraphrased from Horace

Justin Cronin
“But I suppose it's part of being old to feel that way, half in one world and half in the other, all of it mixed together in my mind. No one's left who even knows my name. Folks call me Auntie, on account of I never could have children of my own, and I guess that suits me fine. Sometime it's like I've got so many people inside of me I'm never alone at all. And when I go, I'll be taking them with me.”
Justin Cronin, A Passagem - Volume I

George Saunders
“Of suddenly remembering what was lost.”
George Saunders, Lincoln in the Bardo

John Daniel Thieme
“. . .though the names of lovers are forgotten in time, their names
written across the sky as ogham threads are traced
between the stars”
John Daniel Thieme, paulinskill hours and other poems

Elizabeth Jane Howard
“Now he must get back to Margaret. In the old days, he used to come home full of tales about deliveries, excited, even exalted by having witnessed the same old miracle. But after they lost both their sons in the war, she couldn't stand to hear about any of that and he kept it to himself. She had become a shadow, acquiescent, passive, full of humdrum little remarks about the house and the weather and how hard he was on his clothes, and then he'd bought her a puppy, and she talked endlessly about that. It had become a fat spoiled dog, and still she talked about it as though it were a puppy. It was all he could think to do for her, as his grief had never been allowed to be on par with hers. He kept that to himself as well. But when he was alone in the car like this, and with a drop of whisky inside him, he thought about Ian and Donald who were never spoken of at home, who would, he felt, be entirely forgotten except for his own memory and their names on the village monument.”
Elizabeth Jane Howard, The Light Years

Michael Paterniti
“Here's how you think about it: Together you constructed many things throughout your life. Then her body disappeared, but the constructions still remain. Human beings die: That's natural. But to accept her death is to lose all hope.”
Michael Paterniti