Long afterward, many would remember those two days in the first week of October with vividness and anguish.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.
My most vivid memory of my father centers on the day he left. It was warm, and my mother was especially short with Rhonda and me that afternoon, which I attributed to the heat. I was oblivious to the mounting hostilities in our basement apartment.
Most of us can remember a time when a birthday - especially if it was one's own - brightened the world as if a second sun has risen.
I will remember this day for the rest of my life. There is nothing you can say. It's just like you won the match after the earthquake and it just feels great.
I want readers to rehearse that day when everything shatters and think through what they'll hang onto when that happens.
If you were falling in love and you could go back in time and relive a day and see the banal things you did that you'd forgotten about, you'd weep, looking at that day.
There are lots of emotions that go with the Fourth of July.
Right afterwards there was a whole, whole lot of press to do, so the week after, all day, every day, was press so I didn't really get a chance to celebrate.
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
The events of the day's march are now becoming so dreary and dispiriting that one longs to forget them when we camp; it is an effort even to record them in a diary.