Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.
Barbara KingsolverRead
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Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.
For each thorn, there's a rosebud... For each twilight - a dawn... For each trial - the strength to carry on, For each storm cloud - a rainbow... For each shadow - the sun... For each parting - sweet memories when sorrow is done.
The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time.
Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
Back to him she would never go, but in her lonely life still lived the sweet memory of that happy time when she believed in him and he was all in all to her.
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