A Quote by Eliza Cook
How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, When memory plays an old tune on the heart.
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I love Nashville, but I miss the Gulf Coast, the wetlands, and the Delta of Lower Alabama every day. Magnolia Springs is a sweet little town in reality, but, in my heart, it is a kind of mythological oasis. I relive the memory every time I cross the Magnolia River. My memory is probably not accurate, but it's a wonderful memory. So Magnolia Springs lives in my heart as a beautiful, cool, watery place.
I'm just tired of everything…even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes…echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking.
Where we find echoes, we generally find emptiness and hollowness; it is the contrary with the echoes of the heart.
How fragile life was, how fleeting their days on earth, and how fickle was Death, claiming the young as often as the old, the healthy as often as the ailing, cruelly stealing away a baby's first breath, a mother's fading heartbeat.
Sweet is the day of sacred rest;
No mortal cares shall seize my breast;
O may my heart in tune be found
Like David's harp of solemn sound.
I'm still willing to continue living with the burden of this memory. Even though this is a painful memory, even though this memory makes my heart ache. Sometimes I almost want to ask God to let me forget this memory. But as long as I try to be strong and not run away, doing my best, there will finally be someday...there will be finally be someday I can overcome this painful memory. I believe I can. I believe I can do it. There is no memory that can be forgotten, there is not that kind of memory. Always in my heart.
Memory is sweet. Even when it’s painful, memory is sweet.
I have to be in tune. All the time. I have to be in tune with my husband, where he is, how he's feeling. I have to be in tune with where my family is.
He paused again as a tear of longing rolled from cheek to lip with the sweet-salty taste of an old memory.
Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.
... humanity deserved to die horribly, since it had behaved so cruelly and wastefully on a planet so sweet.
Heart-aches are forgotten, tears lose their bitterness, and like a leaf of lavendar in a store of linen, so does Memory make life sweet.
Alas! You complain that your soul is out of tune. Then ask the Master to tune the heart-strings.
The first thing I did was give up sweet tea because I drank so much. I'd start drinking at lunchtime and wouldn't set it down until I went to bed. When you calculate how much empty calories and how much sugar I was consuming, it was staggering. So I haven't had a glass of sweet tea in three years.
Memory plays tricks. Memory is another word for story, and nothing is more unreliable.
It's nine o'clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in / There's an old man sitting next to me making love to his tonic and gin / He says, 'Son, can you play me a memory?/ I'm not really sure how it goes / But it's sad and it's sweet, and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man's clothes.'
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