Remembrances last longer than present realities; I have preserved blossoms for many years, but never fruits.
—Jean Paul (1763–1825) German Novelist, Humorist
When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.
For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost. When I’m feeling most ghost-like, it is your remembering me that helps remind me that I actually exist. When I’m feeling sad, it’s my consolation. When I’m feeling happy, it’s part of why I feel that way.
If you forget me, one of the ways I remember who I am will be gone. If you forget, part of who I am will be gone. Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. the good thief said from his cross (Luke 23:42). There are perhaps no more human words in all of Scripture, no prayer we can pray so well.
—Frederick Buechner (1926–2022) American Writer, Theologian
The greatest comfort of my old age, and that which gives me the highest satisfaction, is the pleasing remembrance of the many benefits and friendly offices I have done to others.
—Cato the Elder (Marcus Porcius Cato) (234–149 BCE) Roman Statesman
When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
—William Butler Yeats (1865–1939) Irish Poet, Dramatist
The “good old times”—all times when old are good.
—Lord Byron (George Gordon Byron) (1788–1824) English Romantic Poet
O rose, who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet,
But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubblewheat,—
Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–61) English Poet
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again years and years unto years, till we attain to write threescore: this is the second of our reign.
—John Donne (1572–1631) English Poet, Cleric
Pleasure is the flower that fades; remembrance is the lasting perfume.
—Stanislas de Boufflers (1738–1815) French Political leader, Writer
Remembrance of things past.
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616) British Playwright
may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old
may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it.
—e. e. cummings (1894–1962) American Poet, Writer, Painter
Our dead brothers still live for us and bid us think of life, not death—of life to which in their youth they lent the passion and glory of Spring. As I listen, the great chorus of life and joy begins again, and amid the awful orchestra of seen and unseen powers and destinies of good and evil, our trumpets, sound once more a note of daring, hope, and will.
—Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. (1841–1935) American Jurist, Author
We placed the wreaths upon the splendid granite sarcophagus, and at its feet, and felt that only the earthly robe we loved so much was there. The pure, tender, loving spirit which loved us so tenderly, is above us—loving us, praying for us, and free from all suffering and woe—yes, that is a comfort, and that first birthday in another world must have been a far brighter one than any in this poor world below!
—Queen Victoria (1819–1901) British Royal
Things done well and with care, exempt themselves from fear.
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616) British Playwright
To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking forward.
—Margaret Barber (b.1869) English Christian Author
Every one can remember that which has interested himself.
—Plautus (Titus Maccius Plautus) (c.250–184 BCE) Roman Comic Playwright
That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.
—A. E. Housman (1859–1936) English Poet, Classical Scholar
The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
—William Wordsworth (1770–1850) English Poet
Even while I protest the assembly-line production of our food, our songs, our language, and eventually our souls, I know that it was a rare home that baked good bread in the old days. Mother’s cooking was with rare exceptions poor, that good unpasteurized milk touched only by flies and bits of manure crawled with bacteria, the healthy old-time life was riddled with aches, sudden death from unknown causes, and that sweet local speech I mourn was the child of illiteracy and ignorance. It is the nature of a man as he grows older, a small bridge in time, to protest against change, particularly change for the better.
—John Steinbeck (1902–68) American Novelist, Short Story Writer, Journalist
Remembrance is the only paradise out of which we cannot be driven away. Indeed our first parents were not to be deprived of it.
—Jean Paul (1763–1825) German Novelist, Humorist
A society that has made “nostalgia” a marketable commodity on the cultural exchange quickly repudiates the suggestion that life in the past was in any important way better than life today.
—Christopher Lasch (1932–94) American Historian, Moralist, Social Critic
Those who weep for the happy periods which they encounter in history acknowledge what they want; not the alleviation but the silencing of misery.
—Albert Camus (1913–60) Algerian-born French Philosopher, Dramatist, Essayist, Novelist, Author
The world does not require so much to be informed as reminded.
—Hannah More
Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear.
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616) British Playwright
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–82) American Poet, Educator, Academic
Oh, for boyhood’s painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor’s rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools.
—John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–92) American Quaker Poet, Abolitionist
Remembered joys are never past; at once the fountain, stream, and sea, they were, they are, they yet shall be.
—James Montgomery (1771–1854) Scottish Poet, Journalist, Hymnist
I cannot but remember such things were, that were most precious to me.
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616) British Playwright
It is a curious emotion, this certain homesickness I have in mind. With Americans, it is a national trait, as native to us as the roller-coaster or the jukebox. It is no simple longing for the home town or country of our birth. The emotion is Janus-faced: we are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.
—Carson McCullers (1917–67) American Novelist
The sweet remembrance of the just shall flourish when he sleeps in dust.
—Nahum Tate (1652–1715) Irish Poet, Dramatist
Ah tell me not that memory sheds gladness over the past; what is recalled by faded flowers save that they did not last?
—Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1802–38) English Poet, Novelist
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