“Some people seem to fade away but then when they are truly gone, it’s like they didn’t fade away at all.”— Bob Dylan, open.spotify.com
“I wish that photographs were physical spaces, like tunnels; that you could crawl inside them and go back.”— Lauren Oliver, amazon.com
“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who’s in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It’s like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven’t seen in a long time.”— Haruki Murakami, amazon.com
“…but that’s exactly what happens when someone leaves. They become like ghosts, because sometimes you can’t see them but you could still feel them once they are gone.”— R. M. Drake, diekleineelisabeth.tumblr.com
“There are songs that still feel like your teeth on my neck.”— Clementine Von Radics, clementinepoetry.us
“I remember thinking I'll go on forever only knowing I'll see you again, but I know the touch of you is so hard to remember, but like that touch I know no other.”— Dave Matthews, youtube.com
“I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.”— Vladimir Nabokov, lib.ru
“I mention her name and the old pain returns. Forget her, you say? How can you forget a living human being?”— Sholem Aleichem, goodreads.com
“Some people feel like they don’t deserve love. They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past.”— Jon Krakauer, amazon.com
“Some automatic device clicked in her big brain, and her knees felt weak, and there was a chilly feeling in her stomach. She was in love with this man. They don’t make memories like that anymore.”— Kurt Vonnegut, amazon.com
“Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I’m glad for that.”— Ally Condie, amazon.com
“But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be recreated - not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed…”— Rohinton Mistry, amazon.com