A Quote by Jonathan Safran Foer
To remember my values, I need to lose certain tastes and find other handles for the memories that they once helped me carry.
Related Quotes
I do remember all of the songs of my childhood and they helped us to cope with being orphans. But the memories of my parents in my early childhood and the solid foundations of socialisation and strong values that they gave me never left me for one day.
Do you remember what you said to me once? That you could help me only by loving me? Well-you did love me for a moment; and it helped me. It has always helped me.
That's what people need to remember about reviewers; opinions can be all over the spectrum, and you just need to find a reviewer whose tastes match your own.
I have become a collapsing star, pulling everything around it, even the light, into an ever-expanding void. Once I lose all ability to communicate with the world outside myself, nothing will be left but what I remember. My memories will be like a sandbar, cut off from the shore by the incoming tide. In time they will become submerged, inaccessible to me. The prospect terrified me. For what is a person without memories? A ghost, trapped between worlds, without an identity, with no future, no past.
Even personal tastes are learned, in the matrix of a culture or a subculture in which we grow up, by very much the same kind of process by which we learn our common values. Purely personal tastes, indeed, can only survive in a culture which tolerates them, that is, which has a common value that private tastes of certain kinds should be allowed.
Sidonie, I know you don't remember it, but you once promised to trust me beyond all reason. And I swear to you that all that I am, all that I possess, including this gem-stone, is yours. I need you. I can't do this alone. Forget your memories. Look into your heart. And if you can find somewhere there, some lingering spark of trust that owes naught to reason, I beg you to speak the word written here.
We tend to think of memories as monuments we once forged and may find intact beneath the weedy growth of years. But, in a real sense, memories are tied to and describe the present. Formed in an idiosyncratic way when they happened, they're also true to the moment of recall, including how you feel, all you've experienced, and new values, passions, and vulnerability. One never steps into the same stream of consciousness twice.
Music is a vital part of my life, and it has been since I was a kid. It helped me find my identity as a person, it helped me find my identity as an artist, and it helped me get in touch with emotions that I didn't know I had.
You have your wonderful memories," people said later, as if memories were solace. Memories are not. Memories are by definition of times past, things gone. Memories are the Westlake uniforms in the closet, the faded and cracked photographs, the invitations to the weddings of the people who are no longer married, the mass cards from the funerals of the people whose faces you no longer remember. Memories are what you no longer want to remember.
So I was at the gas station the other day, and I saw that there was braille on the pumps. I don't see how they can cater to blind drivers. I mean, there are certain rights you should lose once you lose what makes you a person.
My father always taught me that when you help other people, then God will give you double. And that's what has really happened to me. When I have helped other people who are in need, God has helped me more.
I understood, by dint of digging into my memories, that modesty helped me to shine, humility helped me to triumph and virtue to oppress.
I knew you could find a certain relief in begging God, it had helped me, but on the other hand, God never answered directly and that was always depressing.
I had some interesting costumes... the one that I remember right offhand is Zorro when I was a lot younger. I was a big time Zorro fan. My mom helped me make it, and I remember having a big issue with the fact that she wouldn't let me carry around a real metal sword; it just had to be plastic.
Desires, memories, fears, passions form labyrinths in which we lose and find and then lose ourselves again.
I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose.
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose.
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night.
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light.
And I will remember you.
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by.
Weep not for the memories.
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