Memory Quotes

“Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form”

“Remember thee!Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seatIn this distracted globe.”

“My rage is gone,And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.Beat thou the drum, that it speaks mournfully,Trail your steel spikes. Though in this city heHath widowed and unchilded many a one,Which to this hour bewail the injury,Yet he shall have a noble memory.Assist.”

“The setting sun, and the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in rememberance more than long things past.”

“In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betid”

“No longer mourn for me when I am dead than you shall hear the surly sullen bell give warning to the world that I am fled from this vile world with vilest worms to dwell: nay, if you read this line, remember not the hand that writ it, for I love you so, that I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, if thinking on me then should make you woe. O! if, I say, you look upon this verse when I perhaps compounded am with clay, do not so much as my poor name rehearse; but let your love even with my life decay; lest the wise world should look into your moan, and mock you with me after I am gone.”

“Memory, the warder of the brain.”

“There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.”

“And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And asleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must be heard of, say, I taught thee.”

“The old folk, time's doting chronicles.”

“Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!”

“Within the book and volume of thy brain.”

“When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought.”

“He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.”

“Though now this grained face of mine be hidIn sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,And all the conduits of my blood froze up,Yet hath my night of life some memory,My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left,My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.”

“Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?”

“Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.”

“I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.”

“Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear”

“I'll be at charges for a looking-glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body: Since I am crept in favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost.”

“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his backWherein he puts alms for oblivion,A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'dAs fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.”

“So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

“What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husksAnd formless ruin of oblivion.”

“Yea from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records.”

“My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.”