The past is never dead. It's not even past. — William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun
The past is never dead. It's not even past. — William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun
The past is never dead. It's not even past. — William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun
The past is never dead. It's not even past. — William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun
The past is never dead. It's not even past. — William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun
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The past is never dead. It's not even past.

— William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun
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More “Past” Quotes

The Englishman left months ago, Hana, he's with the Bedouin or in some English garden with its phlox and shit. — Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient
Memory takes a lot of poetic licence. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of — Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie
If you remember your past too well you start blaming your present for it. Look what they did to me, that's what caused m — Julian Barnes, Talking It Over
For now I sit on my final island of the present as my radius of memory shrinks; lost already are the islands of work, of — Chuma Nwokolo, The Ghost of Sani Abacha
Memories rob us of the present. — Mokokoma Mokhonoana
sometimes the past is the best memories you lived ever cause it'll never repeat again — Christine Minasian
Ever poised on that cusp between past and future, we tie memories to souvenirs like string to trees along life’s path, m — Susan Lendroth
I now know how your angercame from skeletonsthat rattled in your heartand you couldn't escape them. — Susie Clevenger, Dirt Road Dreams
Back then, things were plainer: less money, no electronic devices, little fashion tyranny, no girlfriends. There was not — Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending
What right does my present have to speak of my past? Has my present some advantage over my past? What "grace" might have — Roland Barthes, Roland Barthes
Sometimes we live too much in the past,remembering what we wished had happened. — Harley King, Like A Hammer:Poems 1990 - 1999
How oddly situated a man is apt to find himself at age thirty-eight! His youth belongs to the distant past. Yet the peri — Yukio Mishima, Runaway Horses