If you believe our cause so hopeless, why join us?Because you offered something I had forgotten could be offered, a choice. And I choose to die free.
Most sane human beings who have managed to attain and retain fame each uses it to dramatically increase their name’s chances of being remembered until Jesus comes back, since their heart cannot do what they consciously or unconsciously lust for, that is to say, for it to beat until Jesus returns.
The real reason the number of things that are shared via social media every single minute is so astronomical is because, whenever they each do, most users do not share or say something because they believe they have something worth remembering; they do mainly or only because they fear being forgotten.
Poetry is jealous of you tonight, for as soon as I come to pen a few words, your perfume attacks me in the most civilised manner and I forget myself. I forget the poem. I forget the ...
If you wait until you find something to speak up for, something that you’re passionate about that concerns you and attacks your own beliefs, then eventually, when the day finally arrives, you might also find that you have forgotten how to speak.
Saying that you do not remember something or someone is a less embarrassing or hurtful way of saying that you do not know it or them anymore.
Your relationship or marriage is dead or dying, if you almost always have to remind your partner to miss you (and/or they almost always have to remind you to miss them).
Love, the exotic bird, came and went.Heart forgot love.Joy, the majestic willow, wept and died.Mind forgot joy.Hope, the basement lamp, fell and broke.Soul forgot hope.Self, the anxious caterpillar, took flight and dropped.Self forgot self.You, my all, became all my reasons.Reasons left.You left.I never forgot.
t was once famously said that it is as well that wars are so ruinously expensive, else we would never stop fighting them. However well said, it seems also to be endlessly forgotten that, while there may be just wars and unjust wars, there are never any cheap wars.
The problem with catching dreams is you forget how truly incredible they are when you live with them everyday.
He lost himself in the words and images conjured in his mind and for a while forgot ... He found himself flying among stars and planets ...
If you haven’t figured it out yet, an absolutely certain way to lose something as quickly as possible is to forget the privilege you have to possess it in the first place.
[She] sees. She knows. She understands. About evil, or whatever you care to name it. It comes. It's relentless. It doesn't care if you forgot it. It searches, and it finds you, and it arrives on your doorstep one day, and it lights up a screen, it calls you by your real name, it smiles at you, it says hello, it eyes your son and promises to take him home.
We at Apple had forgotten who we were. One way to remember who you are is to remember who your heroes are.
There's nothing special about this place, he thinks. We all forget. Then we forget what we forgot. And that's how we survive.
... but now men who could work preferred to beg, and the artists forgot that their calling was noble and became imitators instead of creators, charging exorbitant sums for the rubbish they churned out with one eye closed.
If one day she'll forgot the things about me, then I wish we haven't had this chance to know each other.
I looked at him and the other two people whose names I’d just learned. “So . . . so this is home then?”Akinli looked at me, perplexed, then turned to Ben and Julie.“She said some girls left her here and told her it was home. That’s all she knows. She doesn’t even know you.” Julie wiped at her tears, trying to calm herself.He moved his eyes back to me as quickly as he could manage. “Kahlen? You remember me, right?”I stared into this face, searching for something familiar. I didn’t recognize the angle of his chin, the length of his fingers. I didn’t know the slope of his shoulder or the shape of his lips.“Akinli, right?” I asked. This poor boy. I pitied him in the depths of my heart. Clearly, he’d already been going through something, and I could see the last scrap of fight he had in him dying with those words.“Yes.”“I don’t remember ever seeing you before in my life. I’m sorry.”He pressed his lips together as if he was swallowing the urge to cry.“But,” I said, “I know your voice. I know it as if it were my own.