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Memory: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.— THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY — Teach Me to
Forget. Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands, And many friends I've met; Not one fair scene or kindly smile Can this fond heart forget.— THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY — O, Steer my
Bark to Erin's Isle.
Tell me the tales that to me were so dear, Long, long ago, long, long ago.— THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY — Long, Long
Ago. The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And all that thou hast done for me!— BURNS — Lament for Glencairn.
To live in hearts we leave behind, Is not to die.— CAMPBELL — Hallowed Ground. St. 6.
Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!— ELIZA COOK — Journal. Vol. IV. Old Dobbin. St. 16.
What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.— COWPER — Walking with God.
Don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt? Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown; Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembl'd with fear at your frown!— S. THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH — Ben Bolt.
Memory [is] like a purse, -if it be over-full that it cannot shut, all will drop out of it. Take heed of a gluttonous curiosity to feed on many things, lest the greediness of the appetite of thy memory spoil the digestion thereof.— FULLER — Holy and Profane States. Bk. III. Of Memory.
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.— GOLDSMITH — The Deserted Village. L. 81.
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.— GOLDSMITH — The Traveller. L. 7.
A place in thy memory, Dearest! Is all that I claim : To pause and look back when thou hearest The sound of my name.— GERALD GRIFFIN — A Place in Thy
Memory, Dearest. It is a suggestive idea to track those worn feet backward through all the paths they have trodden ever since they were the tender and rosy little feet of a baby, and (cold as they now are) were kept warm in his mother's hand.— NATH. HAWTHORNE — The Marble Faun. Vol. I. Ch. XXI.
I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away!— HOOD — I Remember, I Remember.
'Tis but a little faded flower, But oh, how fondly dear! 'Twill bring me back one golden hour, Through many a weary year. ELLEN C. HOWARTH' Tis but a Little Faded Flower. Where is the heart that doth not keep, Within its inmost core, Some fond remembrance hidden deep, Of days that are no more? ELLEN C. HOWARTH' Tis but a Little Faded Flower. Badness of memory every one complains of, but nobody of the want of judgment.— LA ROCHEFOUCAULD — Reflections and Moral Maxims. No. 463.
Tho' lost to sight to mem'ry dear Thou ever wilt remain.— GEO. LINLEY — Though Lost to Sight.
I recollect a nurse called Ann, Who carried me about the grass, And one fine day a fine young man Came up and kissed the pretty lass. She did not make the least objection. Thinks I, "Aha, When I can talk I'll tell Mama," And that's my earliest recollection.— FRED. LOCKER — A Terrible Infant.
Nothing now is left But a majestic memory.— LONGFELLOW — Three Friends of Mine. L. 10.
The heart hath its own memory, like the mind, And in it are enshrined The precious keepsakes, into which is wrought The giver's loving thought.— LONGFELLOW — From My Arm-Chair. St. 12.
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.— LONGFELLOW — The Fire of Drift-Wood.
There comes to me out of the Past A voice, whose tones are sweet and wild, Singing a song almost divine, And with a tear in every line.— LONGFELLOW — Tales of a Wayside Inn. Pt. III. Interlude before "The
Mother's Ghost." This memory brightens o'er the past, As when the sun concealed Behind some cloud that near us hangs, Shines en a distant field.— LONGFELLOW — A Gleam of Sunshine.
Wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. IV. L. 24.
Oft in the stilly night E'er slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me.— MOORE — Oft in the Stilly Night.
To live with them is far less sweet Than to remember thee!— MOORE — I Saw Thy Form in Youthful
Prime. When I remember all The friends so link'd together, I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather I feel like one who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, And all but he departed.— MOORE — Oft in the Stilly Night.
When time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay And half our joys renew.— MOORE — Song. From Juvenile Poems.
I've wandered east, I've wandered west, I've bourne a weary lot; But in my wanderings far or near Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart Still travels on its way And channels deeper as it rins The luve o' life's young day.— WM. MOTHERWELL — Jeanie Morrison.
I remember, I remember How my childhood fleeted by,- The mirth of its December, And the warmth of its July.— PRAED — I Remember, I Remember.
Hail, memory, hail! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumbered treasures shine! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway!— SAM'L ROGERS — Pleasures of Memory. Pt. II. L. 428.
I have a room whereinto no one enters Save I myself alone: There sits a blessed memory on a throne, There my life centres.— CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI — Memory. Pt. II.
I wept for memory. C.— CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI — Song. She
Sat and Sang Always. Still are the thoughts to memory dear. d. Scott-Rokeby. Canto I. St. 32. Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, Fever'd the progress of these years, Yet now, days, weeks, and months but seem The recollection of a dream. ScoTT-Marmion. Introduction to Canto IV. Still so gently o'er me stealing, Mem'ry will bring back the feeling, Spite of all my grief revealing That I love thee, -that I dearly love thee still.— SCRIBE — Opera of La Sonnambula.
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.— Shakespeare — Henry V. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 55.
Briefly thyself remember.— Shakespeare — King Lear. Act IV. Sc. 6. L. 233.
Die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.— Shakespeare — Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 137.
How sharp the point of this remembrance is!— Shakespeare — Tempest. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 137.
I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me.— Shakespeare — Macbeth. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 222.
I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense.— Shakespeare — Richard II. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 46.
If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings, and the widow weeps. *** An hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum.— Shakespeare — Much Ado About Nothing. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 76.
Looking on the lines Of my boy's face, my thoughts I did recoil Twenty-three years; and saw myself unbreech'd, In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled, Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, As ornaments oft do, too dangerous.— Shakespeare — Winter's Tale. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 153.
Remember thee! Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records.— Shakespeare — Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 5. L. 97.
That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume.— Shakespeare — Macbeth. Act I. Sc. 7. L. 65.
Thou comest as the memory of a dream, Which now is sad because it hath been sweet.— SHELLEY — Prometheus Unbound. Act II. Sc. 1.
The Right Honorable gentleman is indebted to his memory for his jests and to his imagination for his facts.— R. B. SHERIDAN — Speech in Reply to
Mr. Dundas. Where Washington hath left His awful memory A light for after times! S.— SOUTHEY — Ode Written during the War
with America. 1814. In vain does Memory renew The hours once tinged in transport's dye: The sad reverse soon starts to view And turns the past to agony.— MRS. DUGALD STEWART — The Tear I
Shed. The sweet remembrance of the just Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust.— TATE AND BRADY — Psalm CXII. St. 6.
A land of promise, a land of memory, A land of promise flowing with the milk And honey of delicious memories!— TENNYSON — The Lover's Tale. L. 333.
Memory, in widow's weeds, with naked feet stands on a tombstone.— AUBREY DE VERE — Widowhood.
As the dew to the blossom, the bud to the bee, As the scent to the rose, are those memories to me.— AMELIA B. WELBY — Pulpit Eloquence.
Ah! memories of sweet summer eves, Of moonlit wave and willowy way, Of stars and flowers, and dewy leaves, And smiles and tones more dear than they!— WHITTIER — Memories. St. 4.
The dust is old upon my "sandal-shoon," And still I am a pilgrim; I have roved From wild America to Bosphor's waters, And worshipp'd at innumerable shrines Of beauty; and the painter's art, to me, And sculpture, speak as with a living tongue, And of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, Sitting amid their ruins.— N. P. WILLIS — Florence Gray. L. 46.
And when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left, Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory, images and precious thoughts, That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.— WORDSWORTH — The Excursion. Bk. VII.
The vapours linger round the Heights, They melt, and soon must vanish; One hour is theirs, nor more is mine, — Sad thought, which I would banish, But that I know, where'er I go, Thy genuine image, Yarrow! Will dwell with me,-to heighten joy, And cheer my mind in sorrow.— WORDSWORTH — Yarrow Visited.
Memoria est thesaurus omnium rerum et custos. Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things.— CICERO — De Oratore. I. 5.
Vita enim mortuorum in memoriâ vivorum est posita. The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.— CICERO — Philippica. IX. 5.
Patriæ quis exul se quoque fugit. What exile from his country is able to escape from himself?— HORACE — Carmina. II. 16. 19.
At cum longa dies sedavit vulnera mentis, Intempestive qui fovet illa novat. When time has assuaged the wounds of the mind, he who unseasonably reminds us of them, opens them afresh.— OVID — Epistolæ Ex Ponto. IV. 11. 19.
Impensa monumenti supervacua est: memoria nostra durabit, si vitâ meruimus. The erection of a monument is superfluous; the memory of us will last, if we have deserved it in our lives. PLINY the Younger-Epistolæ. IX. 19. Facetiarum apud præpotentes in longum memoria est. The powerful hold in deep remembrance an ill-timed pleasantry.— TACITUS — Annales. V. 2.
Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit. Perhaps the remembrance of these things will prove a source of future pleasure.— VIRGIL — Eneid. I. 203.
Quique sui memores alios fecêre merendo. These who have ensured their remembrance by their deserts.— VIRGIL — Eneid. VI. 664.
Si genus humanum et mortalia temnitis arma, At sperate deos memores fandi atque nefandi. If ye despise the human race, and mortal arms, yet remember that there is a God who is mindful of right and wrong. S.— VIRGIL — Eneid. I. 542.
A giurar presti i mentitor son sempre. Liars are always most disposed to swear.— ALFIERI — Virginia. II. 3.
Se non volea pulir sua scusa tanto, Che la facesse di menzogna rea. But that he wrought so high the specious tale, As manifested plainly 'twas a lie.— ARIOSTO — Orlando Furioso. XVIII. 84.
O insensata cura dei mortali, Quanto son difettivi sillogismi Quei che ti fanno in basso batter l'ali! O mortal cares insensate, what small worth, In sooth, doth all those syllogisms fill, Which make you stoop your pinions to the earth!— DANTE — Paradiso. XI. 1.
Il se veoid par expérience, que les mémoires excellentes se joignent volontiers aux jugements débiles. Experience teaches that a good memory is generally joined to a weak judgment.— MONTAIGNE — Essais. I. 9.
Les souvenirs embellissent la vie, l'oubli seul la rend possible. Remembrances embellish life but forgetfulness alone makes it possible.— GEN'L CIALDINI — Written in an album.
Nessun maggior dolore Che ricordarsi del tempo felice Nella miseria. No greater wo Can be than to remember happy days In misery.— DANTE — Inferno. V. 121.