Heaven alone can tell, with what vague hopes of duty, and affection; with what strange promptings of nature, intelligible to him as to a man of radiant mind and most enlarged capacity; with what dim memories of children he had played with when a child himself, who had prattled of their fathers, and of loving them, and being loved; with how many half-remembered
, dreamy associations of his mother's grief and tears and widowhood; he watched and tended this man.
Civilization was but a half-remembered
state--London as remote as ancient Rome.
Made giddy by the turbulent irruption of this multitude of staring faces into her cell of years, by the confusing sensation of being in the air, and the yet more confusing sensation of being afoot, by the unexpected changes in half-remembered
objects, and the want of likeness between the controllable pictures her imagination had often drawn of the life from which she was secluded and the overwhelming rush of the reality, she held her way as if she were environed by distracting thoughts, rather than by external humanity and observation.
Nay, my very soul was struggling, and my half-remembered
sensibilities were striving to answer the call.
It seemed the set for a half-remembered
B film, with idiotic costumes and spectacular lighting.
With the media demanding answers and two puzzles to solve, Cubiak must follow his instincts down a trail of half-remembered
rumors and local history to discover the shocking truth.
But Vers is being assaulted by strange memories, shards of half-remembered
moments and indistinct impressions.
So, in summary, with the end of the performance appraisal year fast approaching, my advice is to start early on constructing the temple of half-remembered
Read our review here , or pick-up a copy of a modern classic--a tribute to the power of memory and bittersweet mystery of a half-remembered
(See also his close cousins: Half-Remembered
Tune Tommy and The Hummer).
Colin Matthews' No Man's Land sets bitter and blackly humorous texts by poet Christopher Reid, sung by the ghosts of a British captain and sergeant whose bodies are tangled on wire in the trenches, its knotty orchestral texture leavened by fragments of half-remembered
songs and honky-tonk piano.
My father taught me that life, like those half-remembered
motorcycle rides, is a journey in itself.