Memory is a way of
holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you
never want to lose.
From the television
show The Wonder Years
God gave us
memories that we might have roses in December.
Memory is a child
walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it
will pick up and store away among its treasured things.
The leaves of
memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.
Pleasure is the
flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume.
Things that were
hard to bear are sweet to remember.
He who has gone, so
we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more
present than the living man.
Death leaves a
heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
From a headstone in
I know for certain
that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue
to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their
love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in
knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their