A Quote by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Strange, what brings these past things so vividly back to us, sometimes! — © Harriet Beecher Stowe
Strange, what brings these past things so vividly back to us, sometimes!
I'm a big believer in the collective unconscious. The idea that there is a deep connection between all of us that goes back to our ancestors and forward to the people who will come after us. It's essentially the job of the artist to anchor that nebulous space, and I think that's what a writer does: goes to that strange place and brings back these little trinkets. The unspoken experience percolated throughout the generations allows you to have knowledge of things you wouldn't know first hand.
What takes us back to the past are the memories. What brings us forward is our dreams.
Now, you can bring up the past, but anybody can bring up the past. Even my daughter brings up the past sometimes. She makes a lot of jokes about the things that I've done.
It's always strange to read the things you've hoped for in the past because by now those hopes may be spoken for or gone, transformed or altogether forgotten. Like time, hope can be so senseless. It can carry us up mountains or lie us in the quicksand. But like time, hope is unstoppable, inevitable, and blind. Sometimes we travel fast, hurdling towards the unknown, sometimes the unknown comes hurdling towards us while we watch time standing still.
In old grimy streets, in isolated and decaying houses, sometimes far from the Vieux Carre, in little used and secluded cemeteries, there still sluggishly circulates the ebbing blood of the past, of a vigorous and vividly hued past.
Sitting at our back doorsteps, all we need to live a good life lies about us. Sun, wind, people, buildings, stones, sea, birds and plants surround us. Cooperation with all these things brings harmony, opposition to them brings disaster and chaos.
Seneca brings vividly before us a picture of the various scholars assembled in a school of the philosophers.
There is something very appealing about a room which one occupied as a child; it brings back one's childhood more vividly than anything else I know.
Thus doth the ever-changing course of things Run a perpetual circle, ever turning; And that same day, that highest glory brings, Brings us unto the point of back-returning.
Sometimes America is so great because it brings all of us together, but sometimes it can be so limiting because it puts labels on things.
Opportunities may come along for you to convert something -something that exists into something that didn't yet. That might be the beginning of it. Sometimes you just want to do things your way, want to see for yourself what lies behind the misty curtain. It's not like you see songs approaching and invite them in. It's not that easy. You want to write songs that are bigger than life. You want to say something about strange things that have happened to you, strange things you have seen. You have to know and understand something and then go past the vernacular.
The more I reflect and look back on the past, the more vividly do I feel my limitations.
The past does not only draw us back to the past. There are certain memories of the past that have strong steel springs and, when we who live in the present touch them, they are suddenly stretched taut and then they propel us into the future.
I never thought of myself as being a genius. I don't know what genius is. I think a far better expression is a retriever, a lovely strong golden retriever that brings things back from the past, or retrieves things from our common blood memory
A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.
We need to look back sometimes and realize the past taught us to appreciate our future.
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