I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.
I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes
There are some things one remembers even though they may never have happened.
The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blestβ Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast.
The bare recollection of anger kindles anger.
