Deja Vu Quotes

Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…

Deja Vu All Over Again

There's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.

Once you embrace your value, talents and strengths, it neutralizes when others think less of you.

She was overwhelmed with a premonition. Deja vu but from the future, looking back to this moment looking forward.

Does it give you deja voodoo how alike the houses are?" "That's deja vu, and I hate you right now." "For narcing on you to your mom? Wait until you hear what I tell your dad." From the sly grin on his face, she knew what he was thinking. "Don't you even think about it." "I could tell him about the time we-" "Hell, no.

I'm having the weirdest sense of deja vu right now," said the green caterpiller. Duh!" said the blue caterpiller. "Do you think, just maybe, that's because you predicted this?" Oh, yeah." --The Looking Glass Wars

What is it about the moment you fall in love? How can such a small measure of time contain such enormity? I suddenly realize why people believe in déjà vu, why people believe they've lived past lives, because there is no way the years I've spent on this earth could possibly encapsulate what I'm feeling. The moment you fall in love feels like it has centuries behind it, generations—all of them rearranging themselves so that this precise, remarkable intersection could happen. In you heart, in your bones, no matter how silly you know it is, you feel that everything has been leading to this, all the secret arrows were pointing here, the universe and time itself crafted this long ago, and you are just now realizing it, you are now just arriving at the place you were always meant to be.

He shifted over without comment, lifting the blankets, and I scrambled into the warm sheets beside him. He smelled like soap and sleep and bare skin. He smelled familiar. Not the deja vu familiar of Guy or Mel. Familiar like...the ache in your chest of homesickness, of longing for harbor after weeks of rough seas or craving a fire's warmth after snow--or wanting back something you should never have given away.

Intuition comes in several forms: - a sudden flash of insight, visual or auditory - a predictive dream - a spinal shiver of recognition as something is occurring or told to you - a sense of knowing something already - a sense of deja vu - a snapshot image of a future scene or event - knowledge, perspective or understanding divined from tools which respond to the subconscious mind

There's an expression, deja vu, that means that you feel like you've been somewhere before, that you've somehow already dreamed it or experienced it in your mind.

We’re all damaged. It’s a universal component of the human condition, like the stages of grief, deja vu, and expired coupons.

Is déjà vu actually the specter of false timelines that never happened but did, casting their shadows upon reality?

Anyone can plot a course with a map or compass; but without a sense of who you are, you will never know if you're already home.

I can’t even think about what life “could have been” like in Boston, without crying. It’s like deja-vu, I don’t think me and Boston were ever meant to be.

Party lights hang over the street, yellow and red and green. Sadie stumbles over someone’s chair, but I’m ready for this and I catch her easily by the arm. “Sorry, clumsy,” she says. “You always were, Sadie. One of your more endearing traits.” Before she can ask about that I slip my arm around her waist. She slips hers around mine, still looking up at me. The lights skate across her cheeks and shine in her eyes. We clasp hands, fingers folding together naturally, and for me the years fall away like a coat that’s too heavy and too tight. In that moment, I hope on thing above all others: that she was not too busy to find at least one good man … She speaks in a voice almost too low to be heard over the music. But I hear her – I always did. “Who are you, George?” “Someone you knew in another life, honey.

Right now I'm having amnesia and deja vu at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before.

Midnight Omen Deja vu" - Because everyone should experience love in the Caribbean...at least once in a lifetime.

As our eyes meet, I get a kind of deja vu, but instead of feeling like I'm repeating something in the past, it feels like I'm experiencing something that will happen in my future...It's like knowing all the words to a song but still finding them beautiful and surprising.

I believed in immaculate conception and spontaneous combustion. I believed in aliens from outer space and vampires, prophecy, and the resurrection of the dead. I had deja vu many times each day. I was thirteen.

I now understand that deja vu is the awareness of the simultaneous occurrence of a nearly identical event in an alternate universe as perceived by another version of yourself. That haunting sense of unreality and the flimsiness of time, of identity itself, is a window through which we glimpse another world.

with shrunken fingers we ate our oranges and bread, shivering in the parked car; though we know we had never been there before, we knew we had been there before.

Deja vu. Deja su. Deja vecu.

I'm having amnesia and deja vu at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before.

It's like deja-vu, all over again.

I read once that you get deja vu when the two halves of your brain process things at different speeds: the right half a few seconds before the left, or vice versa…that would explain the weird double feeling that it leaves you with, like the world is splitting in half--or you are.

She said, I'm going to miss you when you when I wake up. Don't wake up, he answered. But he did. Kestrel, beside him on the grass, said. "Did I wake you? I didn't mean to.

It was not a coincidence. It was not deja vu. It was destiny. It was my destiny to meet her.

What do we call this moment? A serendipity mixed into a nostalgia mixed into a deja vu mixed into an epiphany!

Sometimes I have these premonitions and I don't forget them, so I will be prepared when they happen.

The moments of déjà vu were coming more frequently, now. Moments would stutter and hiccup and falter and repeat. Sometimes whole mornings would repeat. Once I lost a day. Time seemed to be breaking down entirely.

DAMN! damn it all down took one to the chest without even a sound so WHAT! what are you worth the things you love or the people you hurt HEY! it's like deja vu a suicidal maniac with nothing to lose so wait, it's the exception to the rule everyone of us in EXPENDABLE

The characters tell their story - I am merely the tool used to record it

If you don't realize a deja vu, you have to realize you're creating a deja vu

Shocked my old friend from China, Deja Vu, when I turned up at his door without notice.

Deja Vu confirms a faithful path worth taking.

In some precious and personal moments there are brief, sudden surges of recognition of an immortal insight, a doctrinal deja vu. These flashes from the mirror of memory can remind us and inspire us, especially in the midst of life's taxing telestial traffic jams, which can otherwise cause us to grow weary and faint in our minds.

Non sono riuscito ad averti vicino ma questo non significa non averti dentro. Sai cosa sarò io per te? Sarò sempre quel piccolissimo particolare che ogni tanto scorgerai nell’aria, nelle cose che guardi, nella loro bellezza, quel dettaglio emotivo che ti viene incontro. L’attimo che ti innamora l’anima per l’inquadratura di un tramonto, unico, imprevisto, che torna in mente all’ improvviso. Il diversivo, il tempo di un sorriso quasi inatteso che ti confonde i respiri, il deja vu, la sponda di un sogno. Le storie finiscono mentre quel piccolo particolare, quel quasi niente, mi farà restare con te per sempre.

What is it about the moment you fall in love? How can such small measure of time contain such enormity? I suddenly realize why people believe in deja vu, why people believe they've lived past lives, because there is no way the years I've spent on this earth could possibly encapsulate what I'm feeling. The moment you fall in love feels like it has centuries behind it, generations -- all of them rearranging themselves so that this precise, remarkable intersection could happen.

semua orang pada setiap masa, mencari sesuatu yang hilang dalam hidup mereka. tidak kira sama ada sesuatu yang hilang itu adalah orang yang mereka sayang atau hati yang telah kosong dan dipenuhi kegelisahan...mereka akan terus mencarinya. mencari supaya mereka dapat jadi gembira semula. dapat merasa bahagia semula -Ashraf

Franz said 'Your picture, Viki, suggests that sense of breaking-up we feel in the modern world. Families, nations, classes, other loyalty groups falling apart. Things changing before you get to know them. Death on the installment plan – or decay by jumps. Instantaneous birth. Something out of nothing. Reality replacing science fiction so fast that you can't tell which is which. Constant sense of deja-vu - 'I was here before, but when, how?' Even the possibility that there's no real continuity between events, just inexplicable gaps. And of course every gap – every crack – means a new perching place for horror.

We are all simply reacting, played by events that occurred centuries before.

This was too much for him to handle. It was like watching memories of his life play out from a different camera angle, sometimes with new scenes added. He was living DVD extras.

Ama bugünü, dünü unutmak için yaşamak hiçbir halta yaramadı. Aksine... Unutulması gerekip de unutulmayanlar, katlana katlana çoğaldı. Meğer önce yarını unutmak gerekiyormuş... Her doğanın yeni bir güneş olduğuna inanacak kadar unutmak... Her güneşi ilk ve son kez gördüğüne emin olacak kadar unutmak. ‘Bugünkü biraz daha geniş sanki!’ ya da ‘Dünkü güneş daha ovaldi, değil mi?’ diyecek kadar unutmak... Her günü ilk kez yaşıyormuş gibi hissedecek kadar unutmak gerekiyormuş... Ve de bağırmak: ‘Hangi dinde deja vu yok, ben ona inanacağım!’ Ve de susmak: Nerede diriliş yok, ben orada olacağım.

Anyone who's ever flown London to Sydney, seated next to or anywhere in the proximity of a fussy baby, you'll no doubt fall right into the swing of things in Hell. What with the strangers and crowding and seemingly endless hours of waiting for nothing to happen, for you Hell will feel like one long, nostalgic hit a deja vu. Especially if your in-flight movie was The English Patient. In Hell, whenever the demons announce they're going to treat everyone to a big-name Hollywood movie, don't get too excited because it's always The English Patient, or, unfortunately, The Piano. It's never The Breakfast Club.

Deja vu. Deja su. Deja vecu. Already seem. Already known. Already lived.

We were utterly alone. The hot-springs hotel where we'd had lunch, and the iron bridge, lay hidden in the shadow of the mountains. Every once in a while, as if remembering its duty, the sun showed its face through a break in the clouds. All we could hear were the screeches of crows and the rush of water. Someday, somewhere, I will see this scene, I felt. The opposite of deja-vu - not the feeling that I'd already seen what was around me, but the premonition that I would someday.

He smelled like soap and sleep and bare skin. He smelled familiar. Not the deja vu familiar of Guy or Mel. Familiar like... the ache in your chest of homesickness, of longing for harbor after weeks of rough seas or craving a fire's warmth after snow--or wanting back something you should never have given away.

YOU SEE THEM SOMETIMES. They're just out of the corner of your eye, when you're not expecting them, and sometimes if you close your eyes very, very tightly, and open them quickly, there will be a quick flash of them behind your eyelids before they dissipate. They are the echoes of deja vu, they are the regrets that are fleeting, they are that which you didn't know you missed... They are everywhere and nowhere.

On the fifth night of our search, I see a plesiosaur. It is a megawatt behemoth, bronze and blue-white, streaking across the sea floor like a torpid comet. Watching it, I get this primordial deja vu, like I'm watching a dream return to my body. It wings towards me with a slow, avian grace. Its long neck is arced in an S-shaped curve; its lizard body is the size of Granana's carport. Each of its ghost flippers pinwheels colored light. I try to swim out of its path, but the thing's too big to avoid. That Leviathan fin, it shivers right through me. It's a light in my belly, cold and familiar. And I flash back to a snippet from school, a line from a poem or a science book, I can't remember which: 'There are certain prehistoric things that swim beyond extinction'.

Déjà vu is simply remembrance of the future.

Jika mahu bangkit di gunung terbanglah dengan sayap sendiri bukan mengharap puputan angin yang bertiup tak keruan arah. Jika mahu bangkit di padang terokalah denai pilihan sendiri bukan laluan yang tak dikenal disogoh para gembala populist. (Kebangkitan)

When you're reading a good noir, the shocks and twists have a way of feeling deja vu-like, as if you saw them coming, but hoped the characters would take a left turn... not answer the phone, not sleep with that woman, not sell drugs to those cops... but knew they would. It would have been wrong if they didn't, and the real surprise can be that you care about someone you know is in for hell. You relate to them, even when their hell is so much bigger than your own. But we're all going to die, and we all make mistakes. The best noir stories make you forget plot entirely by giving you characters that feel so well-realised you can't look away as they fall.

Iubirea este chimie pură...dar și în chimie există explozii. Iubirea este anatomie pură...dar și în organism există boli și dereglări, anomalii. Iubirea este totul...dar totul este un nimic. Totul este o continuitate amețitoare, un deja-vu continuu, o ruletă rusească de care mă lovesc instantaneu.

One day, it will all make sense, it will all be revealed. Until then, we learn to live and accept our shadows, our Déjà vu's, our dreams, our intuition that takes us to places that our minds never conceived, our bodies only perceived and our souls gladly remembered. Conversations and experiences amuse me, for I am experimenting with my feelings in ways that I can only do down here. Language makes up for a very interesting, yet bizarre way of putting thoughts into spoken form for the sound to move on in other peoples' ears, but every language, every sound, every word carries with it a long history, a deep culture and the souls of the many people who have previously used it throughout the centuries. Our hearts give us direction, hope and the passion to keep moving forward.. But what we do when they're frozen, broken, torn apart by an unhealthy way of living is what gives us new strength to push forward or kills us completely. Deep inside, we feed the entities that empower the fight between our internal demons and angels. We feed them with our thoughts, our emotions, our self-talk and the external talk that we lower our shields to at times. Whether good or bad, this brings about a change internally and at times there isn't much we can do to protect ourselves. At times, we need to let things be and go along with it. Of course, we're all worried, stressed, confused and lacking direction at times and we're in the same way at peace, stable and walking in the right direction once we get things sorted. Give it some time, give it some light, give it some love. You're not very far away.

What is it about the moment you fall in love? haw can such a small measure of time contain such enormity? I suddenly realize why people believe in deja vu, why people believe they've lived past lives, because there is no way the years I've spent on this earth could possibly encapsulate what I'm feeling. The moment when you fall in love feel like it has centuries behind it, generations -- all of them rearranging themselves so that this precise, remarkable intersection could happen. In your heart, in your bones, no matter how silly you know it is, you feel that everything has been leading to this, all the secret arrows were pointing here, the universe and time itself crafted this long ago, and you are just now realizing it, you are just now arriving at the place you were always meant to be.

Kalau benar pergelutan ini merajakan demokrasi pada takhta liberal: Kita adalah khadam membontoti kapitalis bangsat, kita bukan nakhoda mengemudi bahtera bangsa. (Pergelutan)

Do you ever have Deja Vu?’ ‘I could ask in the kitchen, see if they've got any in.

She only came back when she felt like it, in dreams and lies and broken-down deja vu.

Hostility," Cal said. "It's deja vu all over again. How's your head?" "The pain comes and goes," Min said. "And then there are the voices.

I mean you feel familiar. Kind of. It’s weird. Like deja vu or something.” I bite back a smile as I shake my head. “Nope. It was just that one time.

When I was cooking I enjoyed a sense of being ‘out’ of myself. The action of dicing vegetables and warming oil made my hands tingle and my thoughts switch to a different hemisphere, right brain rather than left, or left rather than right. In my mind there were many rooms and, just as I still got lost in the labyrinth of corridors at college, I often found myself lost, with a sense of déjà vu, in some obscure part of my cerebral cortex, the part of the brain that plays a key role in perceptual awareness, attention and memory. Everything I had lived through or imagined or dreamed appeared to have been backed up on a video clip and then scattered among those alien rooms. I could stumble into any number of scenes, from the horrifically sexual, horror-movie sequences that were crude and painful, to visualizing Grandpa polishing his shoes.

The moment that followed was one that would forever change the course of her life. She reflected on it later, and wondered how such a short matter of seconds could alter so permanently every part of her existence. Like an unstoppable line of dominoes, the moment was the flick that set everything into motion.

The sensation of having already met someone, or what the French called deja vu, the feeling of having already seen something. There was probably a scientific explanation for it, but the older she got, the more she was inclined to give ino the the feeling that these moments were glimpses into a world greater than this physical one. It was as if there were cycles that repeated themselves over and over, but most people never saw the repetition; they were too deeply enmeshed in their own path to see.

This morning from a dewy motorway I saw the new camp for the internees: A bomb had left a crater of fresh clay In the roadside, and over in the trees Machine-gun posts defined a real stockade. There was that white mist you get on a low ground And it was deja-vu, some film made Of Stalag 17, a bad dream with no sound. Is there a life before death? That's chalked up In Ballymurphy. Competence with pain, Coherent miseries, a bite and sup: we hug our little destiny again. -Whatever You Say Say Nothing

I had a feeling of deja-vu when, the next afternoon, Julian answered the door exactly as he had the first time, by opening it only a crack and looking through it warily, as if there were something wonderful in his office that needed guarding, something that he was careful not everyone should see. It was a feeling I would come to know well in the next months. Even now, years later and far away, sometimes in dreams I find myself standing before that white door, waiting for him to appear like the gatekeeper in a fairy story: ageless, watchful, sly as a child.

Why did my body have such a strange, visceral reaction to his presence? It felt almost like deja vu, like we have met before sometime, maybe once upon a dream. It’s like he’s just on the tip of my tongue, and I can’t help but feel like if maybe I had seen his face properly, I would know who he is.

I hadn't come this way much in high school, and I'd been "home" so infrequently since then that the roads I used to frequently travel gave me a vague sense of deja vu. I've been here before, but when? This confusion swelled in me as pride. It meant this was no longer home. You didn't reject me, I rejected you.

Those who have reached the seventh incarnation carry with them all that was learnt, suffered and experienced in the previous six. Life for them is a perpetual and unsatisfying deja vu. Nothing is new, truly interesting, truly vital. Everything has done before, even before it begins. Such a soul is said to live a 'Saturday Life

Exiting a bus, déjà vu overwhelmed me, that ephemeral phenomena of alignment so perfect it is eerie.

A déjà vu is your future self doing a past life regression.

usually we find later that we did good its all about how things will happen if we allow our own inner to steer just like a wrapping for a gift when we realize it's all been Déjà vu

It was like yesterday’s déjà vu redux.

Loneliness struck again, its force doubled by how much she wished it was her family there instead. Then oddly enough, she met the boy's stare and that feeling came again, that this was her family.

Someone tweeted a quote of mine yesterday, and got abused so much for posting it they deleted it. Any doubts free speech is under attack everywhere now vanished for me right there. The crushing of my words in another's mouth left me speechless. Words, and the freedom to express them, are getting torched on a bonfire of inanities. Then the chilling hand of déjà vu claps us on the back and tells us not to concern ourselves with independent thought.

...curse them with dirty looks for the next hour or so, ... I`m funny when I want to be funny. Damn it, I`m hilarious. .... there on that boulevard, one hand in my inside pocket and another resting on the cab door, the world froze and went mute in a kind of revese deja vu, in which I saw Stella for the first time. ...the torn T-shirt which hardly covered her slowly freezing nakedness ... or perhaps those were the sizes of the holes in your soul, Artist, which you try to conceal with that buckets of paint?.. .. God let me find myself .

Но я не в силах справиться с фантомами повторения, с этими призраками, все чаще мелькающими в моей голове. В любом обществе у меня возникает чувство, словно я где-то когда-то уже слышал те же мнения, высказанные теми же людьми, таким же образом, теми же словами, в тех же выражениях, с теми же жестами.

June Afternoon" Didn't I tell you everything is possible in this deja vu? Try the river boat, the carousel, feed the pigeons, Bar-B-Q. Look at all the people, happy faces all around. Smiling, throwing kisses, busy making lazy sounds It's a bright June afternoon, it never gets dark. Wah-wah! Here comes the sun. Get your green, green tambourine, let's play in the park. Wah-wah! Here comes the sun Some folks are on blankets, slowly daydreaming and reaching for their food. Let's go buy an ice-cream and a magazine with an attitude and put on a cassette, we can pretend that you're a star cos life's so very simple just like la-la-la It's a bright June afternoon... There's a painter painting his masterpiece. There are some squirrels jumping in the trees, There's a wide-eyed boy with a red balloon. All my life I've longed for this afternoon.

This is the work of a lifetime, here on earth: To invent the astral body, to create it. giving it our consciousness. Thus one will survive death. One could also die when one chooses… And on dying, not lose the awareness 'from here.' What has happened to you is a detachment of your astral body while your physical body sleeps. This occurs to vîras; it's an automatic unconscious process. Sometimes, by simple chance, a glimmer of consciousness reaches this fine body and then, on suddenly awakening or the next day, one gets the impression of experiencing something much more real than physical reality. The deja-vu of psychologists has its explanation in this phenomena of detachment. Have you seen those children who elevate a kite and send messages with little rolls of paper that go slowly up to the kite? So it is, more or less, with that other. The astral body breaks away, still attached to the physical body by a string which has been called a 'silver cord' that is only cut at death. Thanks to this cord we can go immeasurable distances without losing the connection with our physical bodies. It always returns. So it reaches consciousness, like those messages of children with their kite. Yes, we must become like children to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven… with our astral bodies. Pay attention to this other analogy: As a child finds itself joined to its mother by the umbilical cord, so the astral body is joined to its father, the physical body, by a silver cord. The child cries and despairs at birth, when the cord connecting him to his mother is cut. He thinks this is death, but it is a new life. The same befalls the vîra when he dies; when the silver cord is cut he enters into another life. Death is a new life. All this is archetypal. Only those events expressing archetypes have ontological reality.

Say we’re only here because of stars and explosions. Things 
don’t need to realize themselves to survive, yet every man carries with him a dimension of irresolution regarding his existence that insecurely colors everything he does in a day. Intuition. A deep knowing. A recurrent dream. Have you ever had a dream that makes more sense than life? Explain coincidence. Explain the start. What is déjà vu? And is there not something eerie about being born into a world that was already prepared? It’s not that we want a God, it’s that everyone secretly knows there’s supposed to be one.

Erlendur didn’t believe in premonitions, visions or dreams, nor reincarnation or karma, he didn’t believe in God although he’d often read the Bible, nor in eternal life or that his conduct in this world would affect whether he went to heaven or hell. He felt that life itself offered a mixture of the two. Then sometimes he experienced this incomprehensible and supernatural de´ja` -vu, experienced time and place as if he’d seen it all before, as if he stepped outside himself, became an onlooker to his own life. There was no way he could explain what it was that happened or why his mind played tricks on him like this.

This sketch was more elaborate than the others, more complete. A river scene, with a tree in the foreground and a distant wood visible across a broad field. Behind a copse on the right-hand side, the twin-gabled roofline of a house could be seen, with eight chimneys and an ornate weather vane featuring the sun and moon and other celestial emblems. It was an accomplished drawing, but that's not why Elodie stared. She felt a pang of déjà vu so strong it exerted a physical pressure around her chest. She knew this place. The memory was as vivid as if she'd been there, and yet somehow Elodie knew that it was a location she'd visited only in her mind. The words came to her then as clear as birdsong at dawn: "Down the winding lane and across the meadow broad, to the river they went with their secrets and their sword." And she remembered. It was a story that her mother used to tell her. A child's bedtime story, romantic and tangled, replete with heroes, villains, and a Fairy Queen, set in a house within dark woods encircled by a long, snaking river.

AVA I was having deja vu I saw us three Zoe me and you

How is he?” Dana asked. “Your name was the first word out of his mouth,” Clarence said, “so I guess he’s okay. He’s sleeping now.” “Christ, the man came out of surgery less than a day ago,” Jeraldine said, “after they took a friggin’ bullet from his chest.

Postojis u meni i prisecam se svega. Dovoljno da ne probijes kroz srce, dovoljno da me unistis ako se pojavis. Jos uvek stojim cvrsto na litici zaborava. A ti jos uvek ostajes, moj deza vi.

series Weekend Warriors (2003) (Amazon) Payback (2004) (Amazon) Vendetta (2005) (Amazon) The Jury (2005) (Amazon) Sweet Revenge (2006) (Amazon) Lethal Justice (2006) (Amazon) Free Fall (2007) (Amazon) Hide and Seek (2007) (Amazon) Hokus Pokus (2007) (Amazon) Fast Track (2008) (Amazon) Collateral Damage (2008) (Amazon) Final Justice (2008) (Amazon) Under the Radar (2009) (Amazon) Razor Sharp (2009) (Amazon) Vanishing Act (2009) (Amazon) Deadly Deals (2009) (Amazon) Game Over (2010) (Amazon) Cross Roads (2010) (Amazon) Deja Vu (2010) (Amazon) Home Free (2011) (Amazon) Gotcha! (2013) (

DEJA VU

The angst of paramnesia—the sense of “deja vu”—is not purely and simply erased in poetic feeling; it is overcome by a contact made by consciousness with the universal, it becomes the feeling of a reminiscence of something that has existed for all eternity, that the poet has not created, but unveiled, and that we recognize immediately.

Can there be no sadder thing to make me cry, With the exception of losing more days with you, That when you looked at me and said goodbye, I had déjà vu.

Let us repeat. The memory of the present is juxtaposed to the perception of the present.

She considers a tray of flaky 'jesuites,' their centers redolent of frangipani cream, decorated with violet buds preserved in clouds of black crystal sugar. Or 'dulce de leche' tarts- caramelized swirls on a 'pate sucree' crust, glowing with chocolate, tiny muted peaks, ruffles of white pastry like Edwardian collars. But nothing seems special enough and nothing seems right. Nothing seems like Stanley. Avis brings out the meticulous botanical illustrations she did in school, pins them all around the kitchen like a room from Audubon's house. She thinks of slim layers of chocolate interspersed with a vanilla caramel. On top she might paint a frosted forest with hints of white chocolate, dashes of rosemary subtle as deja vu. A glissando of light spilling in butter-drops from one sweet lime leaf to the next. On a drawing pad she uses for designing wedding cakes, she begins sketching ruby-throated hummingbirds in flecks of raspberry fondant, a sub-equatorial sun depicted in neoclassical butter cream. At the center of the cake top, she draws figures regal and languid as Gauguin's island dwellers, meant to be Stanley, Nieves, and child. Their skin would be cocoa and coffee and motes of cherry melded with a few drops of cream. Then an icing border of tiny mermaids, nixies, selkies, and seahorses below, Pegasus, Icarus, and phoenix above.

H jmdv hs v;r knud vgdm H chcm's eddk ;mx o;hm hm xntq oqdrdmbd ats hm xntq ;ardmbd H edks iarnktsdkx dudqxsghmf Break the code.

Hostility," Cal said. "It's deja vu all over again. How's your head?" "The pain comes and goes," Min said. "And then there are the voices.

How bizarre to be here once again. The scene conjures itself before me like a terrible magic trick, a palimpsest. There had been fewer cars. The lot wasn't paved then. The supermarket had been smaller, less modern, and named something else. But the general angles, the spatial arrangements, the site at the top of the hill: yes. Déjà vu ripples through me like a bad lunch beginning to announce itself hours before the final disaster. My stomach twists, and I feel an unease settle. I never thought I would return. I told myself I never would.

The Holocaust is the lowest humankind has ever sunk. There had been massacres and genocide in the past. There had never been industrial-scale human slaughterhouses before. It was the perfect storm of absolute power inciting rabble-rousing hatred combined with advanced technology and the urge to kill in the primitive recesses of the human mind. I hope that the world never descends to that level of barbarity again. I fear that history's darkest stain will be deepened and surpassed in the future.

Of course, as with most derivatives trades, MEXUS wasn’t entirely smooth sailing. At one point, after most of the deal was subscribed, everyone was joking about the time they had discovered at the last minute that they had forgotten to incorporate the special Bermuda company for a similar transaction. Everyone was roaring with laughter about the panic that had ensued. Then we realized that, with all of the focus on selling MEXUS, we, too, had forgotten to incorporate. “Deja vu all over again,” as Yogi Berra used to say. We immediately called our lawyers in Bermuda and discovered there was just enough time—assuming the lawyers could find the Bermuda minister of finance. His signature was required on the MEXUS corporate charter before the incorporation process could begin. An hour later the lawyer called us and said he had pulled the minister out of a meeting of the Bermuda Congress to get him to sign our charter. We could incorporate in time.

Don't tell me you believe in ghosts, Finn.' 'Ghosts, not exactly. Traces, yeah. Sort of.' 'Traces?' 'Here's my theory. Everything is energy. We all leave something behind. Now, there's folk who'll swear on their granny's last breath that they've seen a ghost. And I reckon some of them have. Or rather, they've seen traces of a past energy.' ... Finn was talking with his hands now, trying to make some sense. 'We think that time moves forward, in a linear fashion. Yeah? But sometimes you get deja vu, or there's some mad coincidence that you can't explain. I think time doesn't move in a linear fashion, but in a spiral, and sometimes there's echoes from the past. And a ghost is just an echo of someone.

Right now I'm having amnesia and deja vu at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before. Steven Wright

I sucked in a breath, deja-vu hitting me hard. Flashbacks of her walking the Freedom Trail in that shirt, her ass swaying at its hem. Flashbacks of how she’d been wearing it when she begged me to kiss her—how it was one more stupid thing that justified to my desire-clogged brain why it was okay to do it. To take that kiss. To want to take her.

Cresting above the deja vu, as if coming up for air, Flemel squatted and lifted the thing cleanly in his arms and pulled the wounded creature against his breast. A voice wept in the darkness.