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"Our feet are grape-squashed in memoriesour skins are still flushedfrom the touch of summer's lips."
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"Memory is the great deceiver. Perhaps there are some individuals whose memories act like tape recordings, daily records of their lives complete in every detail, but I am not one of them. My memory is a patchwork of occurrences, of discontinuous events roughly sewn together: The parts I remember, I remember precisely, whilst other sections seemed to have vanished completely."
"He noticed that she threw away the crumbled bus ticket on the street as soon as she got down. He picked it up and put it in his pocket along with his own a memorabilia of their first date together, just like a strand of her hair he would find later on his shirt and the broken pen cap that she would go on to search in the laboratory and so many other such small things which he would collect."
"Do you know how there are moments when the world moves so slowly you can feel your bones shifting, your mind tumbling? When you think that no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life, you will remember every last detail of that one minute forever?"
".. I thought about him now and then, the things he had taught me about 'being human' and 'relating to others;, but it was always in the distance, as if from another life.. .. The people who might have told me were long forgotten, their phone numbers buried in some packed-away box in the attic."
"Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not good enough to recollect how often we have told it to the same person?"
"Memories rob us of the present."
Explore more quotes by Sanober Khan
"The magic fades too fastthe scent of summer never lasts the nights turn hollow and vast but nothing remains...nothing lasts."
"Like a speeding trainI am passing by...I don't knowwhere I'm headingwith whom or whyall I know is thatI will never, everpass from here againall I know is I'm skidding forwardon this track of life."
"Some winterswill never meltsome summerswill never freezeand some things will only... live in poems."
"As the sky prepares to settle its tired, aching feetinto the night's velvet slippersI settle, into my armchair, soaking the teabag,of my thoughts, into warm liquidy stars."
"This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm."
"My dear,we are all made of water. it's okay to rage. sometimes it's okay to rest. to recede."
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