Quotes About Nostalgia

was the first boy I ever slept with. His name

Carole. She had

a sound, a smell, or a memory could bring it back to mind.

bag on a strap over her shoulder that she had owned since she was nineteen. But somehow

Becky had sent her as souvenirs of her

I don't think anyone ever remembers what they were really like as kids. Adults think they do, but they don't. Photos and videos don't capture the real you, or bring back to life the person you used to be. You have to return to the past to do that.

I gulped, then stepped over the threshold into the house where I'd lived as a boy. After eighteen long years of wandering, I had finally come home.

Childhood is the purest state. The pure of heart never leave it behind. Their life merely takes them on a cirtuitous route away from, and then back to it.

We laugh. Bec stares at us uncertainly, then joins in. She sounds a bit like Bill-E when she laughs, and for a few happy moments it's as if me, my brother and uncle are together again, relaxing in Dervish's study, sharing a joke, not a care in the world.

I don't suppose you kept anything of hers, did you? Such as? A lock of hair, a knife which was dear to her, a scrap of her clothes? Vampires do not indulge in such foolishness, he said gruffly. They should, Evanna sighed.

You don't recognise the good times in life until it all goes bad and you look back and see how lucky you were, how easy you had things.

Are you asleep?" I said I was. She lit a cigarette for me, one for herself. "Don't you ever think you'd like to go back to detecting once in a while just for the fun of it?

Think, for a moment, of the countless happy childhood hours you spent with this amazing device: Drawing perfect horizontals, drawing perfect verticals, drawing really spastic diagonals, trying to scrape away the silver powder from the window so you could look inside.

and he held her, then, and she held him, just for a moment, the last moment they would ever have when they were both the same age.

Vancouver was like a long kiss from a ponytailed girl. I left a piece of myself there. Everybody does the first time.

Why did we do that to Pluto? We had it good with Pluto.

When I was very young I couldn't watch anything black and white on TV because I knew the people moving were now dust.

This is why Max loved Mr. Beckmann: he was an equal. He seemed to have navigated his way through seven or so decades of adulthood without forgetting one moment of his childhood- what he loved and hated, feared and coveted.

The air is like being wanted, we say, and they nod approvingly. The air is like getting older, they say, and they touch our arms gently.

There's nowt to know. A miserable caulker. But you, you're different, and you'll be grown and gone afore I know." He stared from the window. Sleet splashed down onto the pebbledash outside. "And this is hardly a place that'll draw you back," he said.

I was born in a hovel on the banks of the Tyne, as so many of us were back then.

And I was there as well," he said. "And for one as old as me it's not so long ago, and it drove us all a little mad and a little sad and left us all with partly broken hearts.

I hate being so nostalgic about the Sixties.

Dark, cool, musty, smoky, where light fell funny and everyone looked like someone you knew or wanted to know. Or, more likely, wanted to forget.