Quotes About Nostalgia

You've been awash in melancholy for days. Don't tell me you've never completely gotten over the end of truffle season?

In those days the planes had propellers and couldn't make the trip nonstop and, worst of all, traveled through the sky.

Las personas adultas se avergüenzan de su infancia como de su inocencia, y luego también de su juventud, porque lo más fácil y lo más cómodo y lo de mejor gusto es olvidar a tiempo lo que ya no se tiene.

Lo demás es el cielo. Y eso lo sabes porque tu memoria borró piadosamente palabras, gestos, hechuras y deshechuras, para dejarte de esas tres, cuatro horas, el recuerdo hechizado de sus ojos almirantes y la cicatriz de un beso cuya innata radiactividad habrá de atormentarte en silencio cuantas veces vuelvas al Perro y no esté allí Carolina.

Thálatta! Thálatta!

I explore it now in the only place left for it, my memory.

It was a huge zoo, spread over numberless acres, big enough to require a train to explore it, though it seemed to get smaler as I grew older, train included. Now it's so small it fits in my head.

Mamaji remembered, Father dreamed.

She looked beautiful. And sad. For she was leaving India, India of the heat and monsoons, of rice fields and the Cauvery River, of coastlines and stone temples, of bullock carts and colourful trucks, of friends and known shopkeepers, of Nehru Street and Goubert Salai, of this and that, India so familiar to her and loved by her.

The past is just something that's over.

A society that has made 'nostalgia' a marketable commodity on the cultural exchange quickly repudiates the suggestion that life in the past was in any important way better than life today.

Imprisoned in his self-awareness modern man longs for the lost innocence of spontaneous feeling.

My father, who has derived such happiness from his childhood, found in me the companion with who, he could return there.

I closed my eyes softly and fell in love with the way I remembered you: body, soul, and all.

As we grow we do not see ourselves changing – there is the apparent continuity of the mirror, the daily awareness of immediate past – and it takes the reminders of old photographs or old friends to point out the differences.

Memories. Weighty emptinesses. I live in a memory the size and shape of a house.

Everything is 'smart' now. The library cataloging system is smart, classification and indexing information entered into a uniform online database. People wept and lamented the loss of the old cards, then forgot them. They pretty much forget everything they weep over and lament. Clop-clop of hooves on the street. The humble art of carrying a block of ice up the stairs, pincered by a pair of tongs. Rotary phones and 33 rpm records. Stamp-pad ink and poster paint.

I think that if I had grown up and had been in show business and the movies twenty five, thirty years earlier, I think I would have made a lot more musical movies.

What turns me on is to walk into a sold-out venue. The audiences are so much the same as they were in the '60s. It's just an amazing thing. I can't explain it, but I hope it never stops.

He wasn't a romantic. Had never thought himself as sentimental. But he wanted this one last kiss. "Well", he said, his voice hoarse and grainy, "we'll always have Peru.

Once a boy shows you the stars, they're a hard act to follow.

Could I go back and live at Mum and Dad's at the age of twenty-six?

November 1998 - They were singing. They were drunk. They were happy. That was what Olivia recalled most, afterwards. How happy her friends had been

Stuart calls me the Milkybar Kid.