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It's true, Christmas can feel like a lot of work, particularly for mothers. But when you look back on all the Christmases in your life, you'll find you've created family traditions and lasting memories. Those memories, good and bad, are really what help to keep a family together over the long haul. – Caroline Kennedy
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I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.
Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.
Let this coming year be better than all the others. Vow to do some of the things you have always wanted to do but could not find the time. Call up a forgotten friend. Drop an old grudge, and replace it with some pleasant memories. Vow not to make a promise you do not think you can keep. Walk tall, and smile more. You will look 10 years younger. Do not be afraid to say, I love you. Say it again. They are the sweetest words in the world.
Memory is a mirror that scandalously lies.
The thing about Christmas is that it almost doesn't matter what mood you're in, or what kind of year you've had–it's a fresh start. – Kelly Clarkson
Do not let the memories of your past limit the potential of your future. There are no limits to what you can achieve on your journey through life, except in your mind. ― Roy T. Bennett,
I like books that aren't just lovely but that have memories in themselves. Just like playing a song, picking up a book again that has memories can take you back to another place or another time.
We count down the days just to experience it nearly exactly as we always have. It is so comfortable, familiar, and perfectly nostalgic that, frankly, we have no desire to improve upon it at all. – Joanna Gaines
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 love.
I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.
