Sentences with phrase «memory presents things»

Not exact matches

up to the gray - bearded manhood of this time, there is none but has left me honey in the hive of memory that I now feed on for present delight, When I recall the years... I am filled with a sense of sweetness and wonder that such little things can make a mortal so exceedingly rich.

And few things evoke that passage of time better than a video of childhood memories, from babyhood to the present.

This is also a Christmas present to myself... Buying memories and not things is my motto!

Like it could have a better plastic quality along with more memory than just the 8 GB at present, though the memory card manages to keep things at a respectable figure of 16 GB.

We've learned to slow down, be present with life and collect memories, not things.

And that was New Orleans: spectacularly spooky architecture, addictive food, the ever - present memory of a calamitous hurricane — all those things that defined the city.

Just a few of the countless memories I have of Angie include going to Anime Expo in 2009, over the 4th of July weekend, where she met Rocco of the infamous Mega 64 series; when Angie would come over to my house and reenact the whole of Advent Children with my original FFVII action figures, and the hilarity that ensued thereafter; as well as listening to her plan about upcoming summer events, like her graduation party, visiting college campuses, and attending various conferences and conventions in which she would present her latest research for kindred spirits who were just as dedicated to the study all things otaku and / or video - gaming related as she was.

I guess that's one of the things that makes them different from photographs, in that a photograph might be a record, a snap, one moment — a painting I think is about creating a small world around that photo... I really like that idea of something that you can enter like a box or an exhibition space, and enter these little rooms which for me are memories, but it's not about nostalgia — it's more about setting up something that's still living — so it's almost they're all in the present, rather than in the past.»

The Korean Cultural Center Washington, D.C. proudly presents Invisible Things, a new exhibition of painting, installation, and sculpture works by Korean artists Gyeongja Lee and Hyemin Lee that gives form to the powerful inner thoughts, emotions, and memories that occupy our everyday lives.

«Memory isn't a thing that can actually present the past,» Zhang Xiaogang once explained; rather, memory undergoes «continuous revisions.&Memory isn't a thing that can actually present the past,» Zhang Xiaogang once explained; rather, memory undergoes «continuous revisions.&memory undergoes «continuous revisions.»

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

As Lepage revisits his childhood home and other reconfigured spaces from his past and present he unearths a life's worth of memories, sifting in the process through the things we can't seem to recall and those we aren't able to forget.

But in the spirit of switching things up (and perhaps as a memory aid), we'd like to present you with a satirical guide on how to write a really terrible resume that will not get you any interviews!

The questions are typically about your family — past and present — as well as your views on discipline and things like your fondest childhood memory or your greatest fear.

Feed hungry babies, wipe up spills, exercise patience, calm squabbles, clean, cook, organize, get the laundry washed and put away, doctor's appointments, school activities, baseball, football, soccer games, plan celebrations and holidays, decorate for parties and seasons, bake cookies for school events, buy and wrap presents, hugs, kisses, storytime, grocery shop, clothes shop, fix boo - boo's and owies, bring encouragement, pray, comfort hearts and wipe tears, make happy memories, play games together, care for them when they get sick in the middle of the night, change diapers, bathe the little ones so they're fresh, clean and smelling sweet, tuck them into bed with prayers at night, get out the door to go to church with hair combed and shoes on, tell them you love them to the moon and back, sit, listen and look into their eyes and savor their sweetness... and a million other things!

We kept things from our past, but have been making new memories here and our home certainly reflects our part AND present.