Depression is a red herring," said Nariman. "I think a lot about the past, it's true. But at my age, the past is more present than the here and now. and there is not much percentage in the future.

There are photographs of people you don't recognize and photographs of you in ways you don't wish to be remembered, but they each contain elements of places or times you do not wish to forget.

He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins. As in a party game. Say the words and pass it on. So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.

And it never mattered who the man I portrayed him to be was. The memory was in the same place as the fantasy, and that place was proven so contorted, convoluted, I'm unsure if I ever told the truth.

Death ends a life, not a relationship. All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there. You live on- in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here.

There were thieves and hypocrites among us, to be sure, and true saints sprinkled here and there, but most were simply good, honest people who worshiped their Creator the best they knew how. We were a family.

I was surprised to feel the tears running down my cheeks. Was this part of the reason fate had brought Arabella and I together all those years ago? Or was fate finally providing a way for our love to live on?

I try not to remember them but very often memories force themselves on my consciousness; they are like stubborn relatives who invite themselves over even when you've made it clear that they are unwelcome.

I know you’re just a rag doll now, sewn together with memories that we might have had. I know you’re just the dream inside of a dream And don’t worry, I know I don’t know you, anymore.

The way those old memories kept bubbling to the surface in the present tense was disturbing. It was as if the past had never died; as if on some level of time's great tower, everything was still happening.

Some think intuition is a gift, but it can be a curse as well--a voice calling to us from places that are better left unexplored...an echo of memories that will never die, no matter how hard we try to kill them.

It seems sometimes that we get so caught up in missing the past, or looking forward to the future, that we forget that this, right here and now, was once the days we longed for and will soon be the ones we miss.

It's the problem in seeing too much of the world. In loving too much of it. You can only live in one place at a time. And eventually, you pick your spot, and the memories of all the others just become ghosts.

When my husband died, people kept telling me not to cry. People kept trying to help me to forget. But I didn't want to forget... So I realize, that if it's hard for me, how much harder it must be for you.

For some, memories are a blessing. They give one something to look at and cherish in dark times. For some, memories are a curse. They give one pain, guilt, and sorrow. But for all, memories make up who we are now.