Quotes About Nostalgia

I am fine with 'Puppy Love.' I hated it for a while. But I still sing it. I have a country version, a sexy version and a cheesy nightclub version. I am trying to infuse it with maturity. I will never escape that song. I will always be Mr. 'Puppy Love.'

I was about 12 when I first encountered 'The Moonstone' - or a Classics Illustrated version of it - digging through an old trunk in my grandfather's house on a rainy Bengali afternoon.

I was an enormous fan of Dan Slott's run, and John Byrne's run was a big deal for me. I found Slott's version of 'She-Hulk' first, and then I went back and looked up some of the older stuff because I liked it so much. And it was so good. It was perfect. It was my perfect comic book at the time that I found it.

Women do not like CDs of live music. We only like the original recordings. If a song sounds different from the version we fell in love with, then it's awful.

I even done a doo-wop version of the Mickey Mouse march.

Tully was the first young, handsome, cocky, well-dressed bad guy. He was our version of Ric Flair before I knew who Ric Flair was. This was before cable TV or any of that, and Tully was our Ric Flair.

For me, 'The Goldbergs' was about surviving a crazy family - and believe me, the show is a sanitized version!

I think recreations are a good thing if done right because it can be very dangerous also. If you do something which goes wrong, then people probably won't like it because they are attached to that old version of the song... So, recreations can be a little tricky.

When I was a 7-year-old girl, in my bedroom, on my karaoke machine, I would sing 'On My Own' or do a one-woman version of 'Les Miserables.'

My memories are like the coins in the devil's purse: when it was opened, nothing was found in it but dead leaves.

been there done that, bought the t-shirt Chapter 2

Dorothy was right. There's no place like home. It

The pictures slipped past again and I kept looking at them. Some of the scans were sepia pictures, going back a hundred years; some were black-and-white; some were oversaturated, from the sixties and seventies. Many were recent, direct digital. Finally

How well they all knew each other now, he thought. In twelve weeks James felt he had come to know more about these three men than any of the so-called friends he'd known for twenty years. For the first time he understood why his father continually referred back to friendships formed during the war with men he normally would never have met. He realised how much he was going to miss Stephen when he returned to America. Success was, in fact, going to split them up.

his old school that if there'd been

The television replaced the sound of conversation that was missing from my grandparents' lives.

I hadn't gotten old enough yet to realize that living sends a person not into the future but back into the past, to childhood and before birth, finally, to commune with the dead. You get older, you puff on the stairs, you enter the body of your father. From there it's only a quick jump to your grandparents, and then before you know it you're time traveling. In this life we grow backwards.

Is there anything as incredible as the love story of your own parents? Anything as hard to grasp as the fact that those two over-the-hill players, permanently on the disabled list, were once in the starting lineup? It's impossible to imagine my father, who in my experience was aroused mainly by the lowering of interest rates, suffering the acute, adolescent passions of the flesh.

All of a sudden America wasn't about hamburgers and hot rods anymore. It was about the Mayflower and Plymouth Rock. It was about something that had happened for two minutes four hundred years ago, instead of everything that had happened since. Instead of everything that was happening now!

The worst part was that, as the years passed, these memories became, in the way you kept them in a secret box in your head, taking them out every so often to turn them over and over, something like dear possessions. They were the key to your unhappiness. They were the evidence that life wasn't fair. If you weren't a lucky child, you didn't know you weren't lucky until you got older. And then it was all you ever thought about.

Olivia lit a cigarette and said, God, if I worried about running into old boyfriends, I couldn't go anywhere!

If you weren't a lucky child, you didn't know you weren't lucky until you got older. And then it was all you ever thought about.

Dr. Philbosian smelled like an old couch, of hair oil and spilled soup, of unscheduled naps.

A seven-year-old girl can take only so many walks with her grandfather.