Nostalgia Quotes
If we could imagine, while we live them, to what mundane moments nostalgia manages to stick itself...
We paw at nostalgia even before we hit twenty, wanting a holiday that never happened, a wholesomeness that could not survive in the wild.
Bad days my memory functions no better than an out-of-focus kaleidoscope, but other days me recall is painfully perfect.
There are photographs of people you don't recognize and photographs of you in ways you don't wish to be remembered, but they each contain elements of places or times you do not wish to forget.
There is a point in the future where even the worst disaster starts to settle into an anecdote.
The path of memory is neither straight or safe, and we travel down it at our risk.
Ever poised on that cusp between past and future, we tie memories to souvenirs like string to trees along life’s path, marking the trail in case we lose ourselves around a bend of tomorrow’s road.
Have you ever been homesick for someplace that doesn'tactually exist anymore? Someplace that exists only in yourmind?
Gonzaga was the kind of place you’d not even think about loving until you’d left it for a couple of years.
...and should I die in her care, I would leave smiling because, I will linger in the hills beside her...
Nos·tal·gia (n):A feeling that lingers long after the taste is gone.
The 'what should be' never did exist, but people keep trying to live up to it. There is no 'what should be, ' there is only what is.
I find myself becoming increasingly nostalgic for the past, but after all I suppose that is the only thing one can be nostalgic about.
Sweet as the past may be, it best remains pressed between the pages of memory, savoured for a moment or two on quiet Sunday afternoons.
Lewis had experienced more trauma than most of his modern readers ever will.
I was willing to yield to nostalgia, that melancholy residue of desire.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia.
See, that's the problem with putting too much stock in the old days. You remember all the GOOD stuff, but you forget about the time you got spanked by your best friend's mom.
He couldn’t believe that sleep had robbed him of this spectacle night after night. Such are the writer’s privileges, he thought, nostalgic already for the present.
Nostalgia dies in the pit of my throat from lack of exercise and I buried the word six feet under the pronunciation of hopeful tomorrows.
Parched by the deprivation of your love for so long made me forget what a cup brimming with love, on my lips, felt like. Everything that now wets it, only wrinkles it with a bland taste.
Underwater madness slipping into a haze, drowning and choking in repugnant nostalgic thoughts.
There were always those passengers who came aboard bearing grudges against the modern age.
In the Catskills, nostalgia runs backwards. The upwardly mobile Jewish masses of the 1950s and 1960s have been replaced by the Jews of 19th century Poland.
Why was everyone so interested in her now? When it was too late to change anything? What was the point?
Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar...
People leave traces of themselves where they feel most comfortable, most worthwhile.
Her grandparents’ house was an old crammed up space just like all the others there, but to Sofia it had the luxuries of a palace and the reverence of a church.
And all these things she always counted on to revisit, they made up a map, the map of a true home. It was the only place where she felt she had an identity and a history behind her.
I handed the photo back to her. The caretaker gazed at it as if it were a lucky charm, a return ticket to her youth.
Why don’t we keep track of the happy moments, so that afterward we will believe them? Is he the same man Was he really sincere?
I long for the days when I was One with the one who was the only one I could be One with.
for those memories are nowjust like these little kittensI hold in my handsthose can be kissedand treasuredbut not held too tightly.
We all leave behind bits of loose thread. Old operations, old enemies. They pull at you, like memories of old lovers.
She ordered a martini and encouraged me to, but said she couldn't drink it with her medication. She just liked seeing it in front of her, like the old days, all set to do its little magic.
I am sick of old ghosts and I just want to feel safe again without the haunts of old vulnerabilities.
How can days and happenings and moments so good become so quickly ugly, and for no reason, for no real reason? Just - change.With nothing causing it.
I can hardly keep track of the things I don't know, but every now and then comes an ignorance that makes me nostalgic.