The unrecorded past is none other than our old friend, the tree in the primeval forest which fell without being heard.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
That past is still within our living memory, a time when neighbour helped neighbour, sharing what little they had out of necessity, as well as decency.
The past is a ghost, the future a dream, and all we ever have is now.
A tree is an incomprehensible mystery.
People can remember their childhood, but events from four or five years ago are in a never-never land.
The past has infinite value if one learns from it.
The past is where its supposed to be.
Just touching that old tree was truly moving to me because when you touch these trees, you have such a sense of the passage of time, of history. It's like you're touching the essence, the very substance of life.
We can't let the past be forgotten.
The past is an old armchair in the attic, the present an ominous ticking sound, and the future is anybody's guess.
The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memorized glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow's past.