A Quote by Janet Horne

Then when you think in years to come Of Birthdays long ago You may remember fondly How much we love you so. — © Janet Horne
Then when you think in years to come Of Birthdays long ago You may remember fondly How much we love you so.
It does not seem a year Since last we sent to you Our wishes for your special day And all that you would do. And once again we wish you All joyous things and more A day that's filled with happiness And memories to store. Then when you think in years to come Of Birthdays long ago You may remember fondly How much we love you so. So have a day of pleasure Do things that make you smile For .............. you are treasured Today and all the while.
Think of me, think of me fondly When we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while Please promise me, you'll try. Recall those days, look back on all those times, Think of those things we'll never do. There will never be a day When I won't think of you. Can it be? Can it be Christine? Long ago, it seems so long ago, How young and innocent we were. She may not remember me But I remember her.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death; Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: Speak low, lean low, As long ago, my love, how long ago
He cleared his throat, "Zoe, i think you said you love me." "I did say it. I do love you with all my heart." "I see." There was a long pause, then he said, "For how long has this been going on?" "I don't know," she said, "Sometimes i think it started a long, long time ago." "You might have mentioned it." "I didn't want to encourage it," she said, "I thought it was a bad idea.
My shoulders sagged. Really, is it too much to ask that I be able to come home from a long day of work and relax? Oh, no. I have to come home and read a bunch of letters written to the love of my life by his fiancée, who, if I am correct, had him killed a hundred and fifty years ago. Then, as if that is not bad enough, he wants me to explain the Vietnam War.
It's an ethical pact I've made with myself and with the reader - not to invent. And when I can't remember, I say I can't remember. I'm just appalled by the memoirs published by people who regurgitate dialogue, conversations from when they were small children, and they go on for three or four pages. I can't even remember what we said to each other ten minutes ago! How can I remember what was said sixty years ago? It's not possible.
I think it's really special to be a part of something that people are still watching or thinking about or interested in, or remember fondly many years later. I don't think it's annoying at all.
I did a series in Britain years ago called 'Skins,' and I remember my little sister telling me that I had a Wikipedia page that was talking about me. But then it got deleted because on Wikipedia anyone can write stuff, right? So I think that it got sabotaged. But this is years ago, so it got taken down. I don't think it exists anymore.
Every year white people add 100 years to how long ago slavery was. I've heard educated white people say, 'slavery was 400 years ago.' No it very wasn't. It was 140 years ago...that's two 70-year-old ladies living and dying back to back. That's how recently you could buy a guy.
I love talking about the Kennedy assasination. The reason I do is because I'm fascinated by it. I'm fascinated that our government could lie to us so blatantly, so obviously for so long, and we do absolutely nothing about it. I think that's interesting in what is ostensibly a democracy. Sarcasm - come on in. People say Bill, quit talking about Kennedy man. It was a long time ago, just let it go, alright? It's a long time ago, just forget it. I'm like, alright, then don't bring up Jesus to me. As long as we're talking shelf life here.
Every Christmas now for years, I have found myself wondering about the point of the celebration. As the holiday has become more ecumenical and secular, it has lost much of the magic that I remember so fondly from childhood.
As a wrestling fan, I can remember years ago seeing my first Street Fight between Wahoo McDaniel and Tully Blanchard, and I remember thinking to myself that I will really think I've made it when I can come to the ring in jeans and cowboy boots with my hands taped and stuff like that.
Long ago, long ago. The simple things come back to us. They rest for a moment by our ribcages then suddenly reach in and twist our hearts a notch backward.
I don't think too much about the past when I am actually playing, I prefer to concentrate on the present. The performance of a piece, no matter how long ago or where it was written, is always a new production, something that comes alive in the present. And it doesn't matter if the piece was written two or three hundred years ago if it is alive in us.
Here's the story: 25 years ago, I had my lips injected with silicone. Stupid thing to do at 24. I saw 'Beaches.' Remember that movie 'Beaches'? I did it with my best girlfriend, so she and I go and we get our lips done. Fine. I have it like that for my whole career, right? So then cut to a couple of years ago, I have a doctor remove as much as they possibly can because it got to the point where they were yucky. You know, they get hard. It's gross. They are now whatever that was after they took out as much of the silicone as they could.
It is strange how the romances of the teenage years retain a poignancy all through life - how a girl who turns you down when you're 16 retains an aura in your memory even long after you, and she, have ceased to be who you were then. I attended my high school reunion a couple of weeks ago and discovered, in the souvenir booklet assembled by the reunion committee, that one of the girls in my class had a crush on me all those years ago. I would have given a great deal to have had that information at the time.
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