Quotes About Nostalgia

The waiter brought our food: beef, mash, and thick yellow English wax beans— the type I'd hoped never in my life to see again.

Jag gråter aldrig över Paco. De där två åren med honom tynger mig inte. Vi övergick från franska till en sorts blandning av den katalanska och den kastilianska som han lärt mig, och jag undrar om det är en del av anledningen till att jag inte saknar honom, eftersom allt vi någonsin sa till varandra var på språk jag har börjat glömma bort

I told him the things that were coming back to me about my mother when I was little: her lemon smell

Polky Polky I used to call it." "Dot Dot, actually." Hanne smiled. "Dot Dot. I thought you were the most beautiful singer in the whole world." Oda felt pitched up onto the crest of a wave, like one of those boats far out at sea.

Everything we ever said to each other was in languages I'm starting to forget.

I look back on those days and it feels gluttonous, all that time and love and life ahead ...

La cucina bears the scents of its past, and every event in its history is recorded with an olfactory memorandum. Here vanilla, coffee, nutmeg, and confidences; there the milky-sweet smell of babies, old leather, sheep's cheese, and violets. In the corner by the larder hangs the stale tobacco smell of old age and death, while the salty scent of lust and satiation clings to the air by the cellar steps along with the aroma of soap, garlic, beeswax, lavender, jealousy, and disappointment.

Growing up in Michigan was fine...until I realized where I was.

What is patriotism but the love of the food one ate as child? Variant: What is patriotism but the love of the food one ate as a child?

What is patriotism but the love of the food one ate as a child?

All the strange, checkered past seems to crowd upon my mind.

Perhaps some day it will be pleasant to remember even this.

And yet it was not authentic, of course, because no real boardwalk of 1910 had been this perfect. It was like a fondly remembered nostalgic confection, a past sanitized of its imperfections, buttressed by an arsenal of hidden technology.

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.' 

Leaving Inishmore' by Michael Longley, from Selected Poems (1998, p.22). What

Images of food rushed through her head, surprising her. Fried chicken. Sweet jalapeño mustard. Mashed potatoes. Biscuits. And a pie. Big and sweet, strawberries with whipped cream- so Texan, so opposite this fierce New Yorker.

I had to ask myself, why I was sensing a twinge of something that felt suspiciously like nostalgia. But starlight can do that to a person.

a flat. Rishworth, I think he said. I wasn't

if god had intended us to follow recipes, He wouldn't have given us grandmothers.

Nostalgia is toxic, false, and impulse based in a desire to escape the present into the imagined past.

Nostalgia is a way of remembering people and places and things, and wishing things hadn't changed. It has a sweetness to it. Sadness is just--well--being sad.

Lincoln's heartbeat picked up a little, the way it always did when he rounded that last bend in the road and saw home waiting up ahead. Home.

Det er bare det vi har mistet, som fremstår som evig uforanderlig.

But [Patrick's] character is partly based on a boy named Mark who lived across the street from me when I was growing up ... I liked hanging out with him and was sad when he moved away after only a year in the neighborhood. I guess writing about Patrick is a way for me to spend more time with Mark.