Quotes About Nostalgia

But do you know this idea of the imaginary homeland? Once you set out from shore on your little boat, once you embark, you'll never truly be at home again. What you've left behind exists only in your memory, and your ideal place becomes some strange imaginary concoction of all you've left behind at every stop.

Setback is like Grandma's muffins.

To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.

Once in a while, groundless melancholy would darken my face, a dull and incomprehensible nostalgia for times never experienced would invade me.

Actually even the worst childhood is always enchanted, how awful.

Mas lembrar-se com saudade é como se despedir de novo.

Today I woke up feeling such nostalgia for happiness. My whole life I've never been free. I always persecuted myself within me. I've became intolerable to myself. I live in the dilacerating duality. I have an apparent freedom but I am imprisoned inside me.

Mi dedico alla nostalgia della mia antica povertà, quando tutto era più sobrio e più degno, e io non avevo ancora mangiato aragoste.

Nostalgia is not for the God who is missing to us, it is a nostalgia for ourselves, for we do not sustain ourselves; we miss our impossible grandeur - my unreachable nowness is my paradise lost.

So i dedicate this thing here to old Schu­mann and his sweet Clara who today alas are bones. I dedicate it to the very crimson color scarlet like my blood of a man in his prime and so I dedicate it to my blood. I dedicate it above all to the gnomes, dwarfs, sylphs, and nymphs who inhabit my life. I dedicate it to the memory of my former poverty, when everything was more sober and dignified and I had never eaten lobster.

Not having been born an animal is one of my secret nostalgias.

I could never again see the evening sun fading into oblivion without feeling lonely.

December, 1919 Last night I heard your voice, mother, The words you sang to me When I, a little barefoot boy, Knelt down against your knee. And tears gushed from my heart, mother, And passed beyond its wall, But though the fountain reached my throat The drops refused to fall. 'Tis ten years since you died, mother, Just ten dark years of pain, And oh, I only wish that I Could weep just once again.

If I had a single flower for every time I think of you, I could walk forever in my garden.

When I cast my mind back and compare it with the treadmill stress that my life is now, I think ah, those were the days. I didn't know I was born. Sometimes it's not being at the top that's the truly joyous part of success, it's getting there.

Cuántas otras palabras habré perdido? ¿A qué lugar de la memoria irán a parar las palabras olvidadas?

Memory is a tough place. You were there.

There are benefits to being without nostalgia. Certainly nostalgia and being without nostalgia relieve the past.

By landscape we also mean memory...

Preservations are working to save neon signs for future generations, either on-site or in museums. After all, what would America be without a few giant doughnuts around.

For Russia, the early 1900s and the 1990s represent more than just the century's bookends. They also are twin periods of transition in Russian history. Both decades were marked by defeat in war, imperial and economic collapse, and attempts at dramatic reform. Both were infused with nostalgia for a past.

The only thing the English have left is their past.

The present time is the best time for reminiscing the pasts.

Anybody you once loved will always be a part of your life story.