Hugh Hefner Quotes

Mexico is only a memory of childhood safety.

When I go away to do a movie, I bring the blanket I've had since I was a little girl. It helps me sleep. I also always bring my laptop so I can E-mail friends. And I bring my dog, Beauty, wherever I can.

I used to have a blankie, and when my mom had to wash it, I would sit outside the dryer and watch it go round and round, and cry.

I used to make up stories about my father. I would go to the movies and look for a character who looked like my father.

As photographs give people an imaginary possession of a past that is unreal, they also help people to take possession of space in which they are insecure.

I still sleep with my baby blanket.

There's no redemption in being robbed. Yeah, maybe you can replace that thing, but it will never be the way it was when you got it the first time. It'll never have the same weight and preciousness again.

Any child who has lost a parent probably knows every single photograph in existence of that parent.

If I was to pretend my father didn't exist and I didn't have anything to remember him by, then it wouldn't be healthy.

Because that’s how it works after something terrible has happened. You know this is true if something terrible has ever happened to you. A thousand objects take on new meaning. Everything is a reminder of something else.

It's like having a pet dog for a long time. You get attached to it, and when it dies you miss it.

[After my mother died, I had a feeling that was] not unlike the homesickness that always filled me for the first few days when I went to stay at my grandparents'' house, and even, I was stunned to discover, during the first few months of my freshman year at college. It was not really the home my mother had made that I yearned for. But I was sick in my soul for that greater meaning of home that we understand most purely when we are children, when it is a metaphor for all possible feelings of security, of safety, of what is predictable, gentle, and good in life.

With my mother's death all settled happiness, all that was tranquil and reliable, disappeared from my life. There was to be much fun, many pleasures, many stabs of Joy; but no more of the old security. It was sea and islands now; the great continent had sunk like Atlantis.

Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives.

I half closed my eyes and imagined this was the spot where everything I'd ever lost since my childhood had washed up, and I was now standing here in front of it, and if I waited long enough, a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field and gradually get larger until I'd see it was Tommy, and he'd wave, and maybe even call.

[T]hese last few days where I've moped around damn near depressed for real, because of people who do not exist. Not really. I can buy them Christmas presents, but there is no way to send them. Sometimes I feel like I should be able to walk into the next room and there they will be, but they won't. These people do not exisit as flesh and blood, but there are different kinds of reality, and there are days when imagination feels very, very real.

The word 'home', it seemed, once learned, was a hard one to forget.

I pulled Lena's necklace out of my pocket. I let the charms roll around in my palm, but they were tangled and meaningless without her. The necklace was heavier than I imagined, or maybe it was the weight of my conscience.

What is there to do when people die - people so dear and rare - but bring them back by remembering?

All we had was her room, her stories, and the quiet that settled in as we tried in vain to spread ourselves out and fill the space she'd left behind.

There was a time when you were not a slave, remember that. You walked alone, full of laughter, you bathed bare-bellied. You say you have lost all recollection of it, remember . . . You say there are no words to describe this time, you say it does not exist. But remember. Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, invent.

Seeing you sleeping peacefully on your back among your stuffed ducks, bears and basset hounds, would remind me that no matter how good the next day might be, certain moments were gone forever because we could not go backwards in time.

I wanted to tell her that sometimes, in my long sleep, I dreamt of her

Once we were one person, and always it will be a little that way.

Photographs force us to see people before their future weighed them down, before they knew their endings.