The past is the bank in which we store our most valuable possession: the memories that give meaning and depth to our lives.
Those who truly treasure the past will not bemoan the passing of the good old days, because days enshrined in memory are never lost.
“I was rich, if not in money,in sunny hours and summer days.”--from Henry David Thoreau.
When Thoreau wrote that line, he was thingking of the Walden.Pond he knew as a boy. Then a boy could go to the pond and lie on his back against the seat of a boat, lazily drifting from shore to shore while the loons dived and the swallows dipped around him. Thoreau loved to recall such good days of past .
Sun and summer are still what they always were, but the boy and the pond changed.the boy, who is now a man, no longer finds much time for idle drifting. The pond also has been annexed by a great city. In short ,everything that the boy loved no longer exists --- except in the man’s memory of it .
Death itself is powerless to still a remembered voice or erase a remembered smile. And for one boy who is now a man, there is a pond which neither time nor tide can change, where he can still spend a quiet hour in the sun.
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