Quotes About Nostalgia

sounding now/old songs/deep water/no-Great Voices/no-Shark/old songs/new songs

Haven't you ever harbored the secret thought that somewhere Huck and Jim are—at this instant—poling their raft down some river just beyond our reach, so much more real are they than the shoe clerk who fitted us just a forgotten day ago?

I wish I could help him. I wish I could help the dozens of other Sufferers - all the victims of wounds, maulings, burns, diseases, incipient malnutrition, and melancholic despair - aboard this entrapped ship and her sister ship. I wish I could help myself, for already I am showing the early signs of Nostalgia and Debility. But there is little that I - or any surgeon in the Year of Our Lord 1848 - can do. God help us all.

and nothing smells quite as wonderful as old books.

Sol had spent his life willing the return of things unreturnable. He remembered the day he had come upon Sarai folding Rachel's toddler clothes and setting them in a box in the attic, and he recalled her tears and his own sense of loss for the child they still had but who was lost to them through the simple arrow of time. Sol

nothing smells quite as wonderful as old books.

He wished he were home in Charleston, listening to the Dave Brubeck Quartet on the stereo and reading Bruce Catton.

Weltschmerz

I think about how we can't always live in the moment because moments pass, and when we're lucky, we have the kind of moments that we can't help wanting to go back to. We think about them, remember how they felt, and when more time passes we tell stories of these moments that are worth reliving.

If only time could be seen whole, then you could see the past remaining intact, instead of vanishing in the rearview mirror.

But I think that at the moment of my death, I'd like to be looking at those pictures of everyone I have ever loved.

Would it always matter? Lines from a Delmore Schwartz poem come to mind: "What am I now that I was then? / May memory restore again and again / The smallest color of the smallest

My life is a museum," says my ninety-one-year-old aunt. "I can walk through any of the galleries at any time.

Now I wished for my boy Xury, and the long boat with the shoulder of mutton sail, with which I sailed above a thousand miles on the coast of Africk; but this was in vain.

And then like a song we'd forgotten was even on the mix, you stepped into the house and my whole life.

It didn't last, it wasn't clear for much longer, and that's why we broke up, but when I close this book and give it to you, I don't think about that, just us holding the book it our hands to buy it and take it here with us, because damn it Ed, that's not why we broke up. I love it, I miss it, I hate to give it back to you, this complicated thing, it's why we stayed together.

Here we are at the bottom, almost empty. It's like confetti, these dried remnants you find in the street for a party no one invited you to. But they used to be, I can admit, part of something beautiful.

I was too jitterbuggy happy to sleep, and the whole day kept playing in my brain's little screening room.

Take them back, Ed. Here they are. Take back the smile and the night, take it all back, I wish I could.

Another song," Allison says. "The one by that band, from when I was in high school, that saved my life the way songs do.

Foi por isso que a gente acabou, Ed, por uma coisinha pequena que sumiu ou quem sabe nunca tenha estado de verdade nas minhas mãos

You never love a book the way you love a book when you are ten. It is an honor to be in that sacred space in some children's brains.

It's not like I hadn't seen you before. Everyone had, you're like, I don't know, some movie everyone sees growing up, everybody's seen you, nobody can remember not seeing you. But just suddenly I really, really needed to see you again right that minute, that night.

Ahora solo queda este mal vestigio del nuestro que te recuerdo con tinta cada vez más descolorida. Es como si nunca hubiéramos tenido nada.