Forgotten Anniversary Quotes

I wondered if there would ever be a day when I didn't think about Alaska, wondered whether I should hope for a time when she would be a distant memory - recalled only on the anniversary of her death, or maybe a couple of weeks after, remembering only after having forgotten.

But then again, didn't all marriages carry thousands of hurts? Didn't husbands and wives injure each other all the time, leaving wounds both big and small, with snapped words or forgotten anniversaries or emotional buttons deliberately pushed? But thousands of kindnesses existed in marriages, too. The important thing was that the kindnesses triumphed over the hurts.

However, you forgot our anniversary date , but it does not matter because I know that you may have forgotten the date but you haven't forgotten my value in your life.

I believe in anniversaries, that a mood can be repeated even if the event that caused it is trivial or forgotten. In this case, it's neither.

champagne, n. You appear at the foot of the bed with a bottle of champagne, and I have no idea why. I search my mind desperately for an occasion I've forgotten - is this some obscure anniversary or, even worse, a not-so-obscure one? Then I think you have something to tell me, some good news to share, but your smile is silent, cryptic. I sit up in bed, ask you what's going on, and you shake your head, as if to say that nothing's going on, as if to pretend that we usually start our Wednesday mornings with champagne. You touch the bottle to my leg - I feel the cool condensation and the glass, the fact that the bottle must have been sleeping all night in the refrigerator without me noticing. You have long-stemmed glasses in you other hand, and you place them on the nightstand, beside the uncommenting clock, the box of kleenex, the tumbler of water. "The thing about champagne," you say, unfailing the cork, unwinding its wire restraint, "is that it is the ultimate associative object. Every time you open a bottle of champagne, it's a celebration, so there's no better way of starting a celebration than opening a bottle of champagne. Every time you sip it, you're sipping from all those other celebrations. The joy accumulates over time." You pop the cork. The bubbles rise. I feel some of the spray on my skin. You pour. "But why?" I ask as you hand me my glass. You raise yours and ask, "Why not? What better way to start the day?" We drink a toast to that.

What a story it is. It is filled with suffering and hunger and cold and death. It is replete with accounts of freezing rivers that had to be waded through; of howling blizzards; of the long, slow climb up Rocky Ridge. with the passing of this anniversary year, it may become largely forgotten. But hopefully it will be told again and again to remind future generations of the suffering and the faith of those who came before. Their faith is our inheritance. Their faith is a reminder to us of the price they paid for the comforts we enjoy.

life. She leaned back in her chair, blinked back a tear and looked at her oak dining room table. The evening had taken her several hours to prepare. She concentrated on the two candles in the center. She watched as the flame flickered and wondered if one of them would go out. She heard the grandfather clock chime and one of the candles finally did burn out. More tears were stinging her eyes as she longingly looked at the door. She was becoming disconsolate and wanted to know what had become of her husband. Even on the most chaotic of days he had never forgotten their anniversary. He had always found a way

Yes, it's not easy to win everyone's hearts. How do you know whom you have become dear to? There is only one solution — during your good times, help everyone. Great people never close the door on any seeker. Probably during this process, without being aware, you might touch someone's heart. And it is nature's law that, during troubled times, this 'forgotten' person will give you shelter.

Haven’t we forgotten something, gentlemen?’ ‘What?’ asked Pirenne, peevishly. ‘That in a month we celebrate our fiftieth anniversary.’ Fara had a trick of uttering the most obvious platitudes with great profundity. ‘What of it?’ ‘And on that anniversary,’ continued Fara, placidly, ‘Hari Seldon’s Vault will open. Have you ever considered what might be in the Vault?’ ‘I don’t know. Routine matters. A stock speech of congratulations, perhaps. I don’t think any significance need be placed on the Vault – though the Journal’ – and he glared at Hardin, who grinned back – ‘did try to make an issue of it. I put a stop to that.’ ‘Ah,’ said Fara, ‘but perhaps you are wrong. Doesn’t it strike you’ – he paused and put a finger to his round little nose – ‘that the Vault is opening at a very convenient time?

We enjoy deep calm even though we are dimly aware of the ordinary flow of unwanted thoughts. They are especially distressing at such a time because we know if we get hooked on one of them, we are going to be drawn out of that peace. We don’t even want to return to the sacred word. We don’t want to do anything except allow ourselves to be bathed in the light and love that seem to be tenderly anointing our in-most being. It is as if God planted a great big kiss in the middle of our spirit and all the wounds, doubts, and guilt-feelings of a lifetime were all healed at the same moment. The experience of being loved by the Ultimate Mystery banishes every fear. It convinces us that all the mistakes we have made and all the sins we have committed are completely forgiven and forgotten.

Did I miss something important?” I asked worriedly. What if we were invited to some sort of Camorra gala and I had forgotten? Savio probably found it funny to give me a heart attack like that. “Do you know what today is?” I blinked, trying to remember. It wasn’t our wedding anniversary, and not the anniversary of our engagement either. No birthday either.

The Lost Cause's Confederacy of gallant leaders and storied victories in defense of home ground retains enormous vitality in recent artworks. "Happy Birthday General Lee" proclaims an advertisement for three prints tied to the 200th anniversary of the general's birth. Grant receives fewer such gestures, and his cause, which confirmed American nationalism and forced a redefinition of United States citizenship, has been reduced to little more than prints of a battle in Pennsylvania, a college professor who did well as a soldier, and a few thousand men who fought under green flags.