“A memory, pressed into my heart like a leaf in a book.”
“Every leaf of the tree becomes a page of the book, once the heart is opened and it has learnt to read.”
“I would forget it fain,But oh, it presses to my memory,Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds.”
“To use an electronics analogy, closing a book on a bookmark is like pressing the Stop button, whereas when you leave the book facedown, you've only pressed Pause.”
“But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.”
“Life was an uncertain thing, and there were some moments one wished to remember, to imprint upon one's mind that the memory might be taken out later, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, and admired and recollected anew. - Sophie and Gideon Lightwood”