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But there, war does not care for predetermination; it also destroys in fury that wich is immaterial, the hopes and expectations (from Requiem for a Hotel /Nekrolog auf ein Hotel,1918)
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war
memories
travelling
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Stefan Zweig |
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I reached inside her and pulled out the deepest memories in her body, the memories that words can't describe, the memories that are as much a piece of her as her arms and legs. Those are the ones she's filled with now.
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memories
peaceful
reverie
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Beth Revis |
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Walk with me, memory to memory, the shared path, the mutual view. Walk with me. The past lies in wait. It is not behind. It seems to be in front. How else could it trip me as I start to run?
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loss
memories
past
love
reminisce
trip
nostalgia
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Their mother had white hands, long tapered fingers, and when she kneaded dough, her wedding ring clinked against the bowl. She was always singing softly as she played the piano with her white hands. She accompanied Emily's dance recitals and she could play anything, but Chopin was the one that Gillian loved. She played Chopin every night, and when she turned the pages, she wasn't really looking at the music. She knew the saddest Waltzes by heart. The saddest were the ones that she knew best, and she would play at bedtime, so falling asleep was like drifting off in autumn forests filled with golden leaves.
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memories
gillian-bach
mother
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Allegra Goodman |
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Or from even further back, from as far back as she could remember, there rose the fascination she had felt as a little girl every time she saw her grandfather shaving: he would sit down, usually around seven in the morning, after a frugal breakfast, and with a serious air make up his lather with a very soft brush in a bowl of very hot water, a lather so thick and white and firm that even after more than seventy-five years it still made her mouth water.
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memories
shaving
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Georges Perec |
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What is it that you contain? The dead, time, light patterns of millenia opening in your gut. What is salted up in the memory of you? Memory past and memory future.
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time
memories
metaphors
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Things could change Gabe. Things could be different. I don't know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors. And grandparents. And everybody would have memories. You know about memories...Gabe, there could be love.
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memories
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Lois Lowry |
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I don't even know whether past feelings and memories deserve any respect at all. Maybe they're no more important than a pinch of pain from an injury decades old. Feelings and memories rise and pass every day, like the weather. Only important at the moment. Why not just notice them and let them go?
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memories
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Charles Frazier |
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When the dead betray the living, the victims are memories.--The Book of Brin
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memories
the-dead
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Michael J. Sullivan |
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"What had Old Joe Hunt answered when I knowingly claimed that history was the lies of the victors? "As long as you remember that it is also the self-delusions of the defeated." Do we remember that enough when it comes to our private lives?"
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time
memories
life
memory
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Julian Barnes |
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"Holmes speaks of grief "staining backward" through the pages of life; but Valancy found her happiness had stained backward likewise and flooded with rose-colour her whole previous drab existence. She found it hard to believe that she had ever been lonely and unhappy and afraid."
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memories
past
happiness
holmes
rose-colored-glasses
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L.M. Montgomery |
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De todas las cosas que escribio Julian, la que siempre he sentido mas cercana es que mientras se nos recuerda, seguimos vivos. Como tantas veces me ocurrio con Julian, anos antes de encontrarme con el, siento que te conozco y que si puedo confiar en alguien, es en ti. Recuerdame, Daniel, aunque sea en un rincon y a escondidas. No me dejes ir.
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memories
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Carlos Ruiz Zafón |