Quotes About Nostalgia

I think it's necessary to keep moving forward. I've always said that nostalgia is death, really for anyone creative.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses. Out of a misty dream, our path emerges for a while, then closes, within a dream.

The times that were most fun seemed always to be followed by sadness now, because it was when life started to feel like it did when she was with us that we realized how utterly gone she was.

There's one thing that keeps surprising you about stormy old friends after they die - their silence.

Give me B movies or give me death!

... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.

The dead have nothing except the memory they've left.

I wouldn't mind to go to New Mexico with you. To California with you. But mainly to New Jersey, to see the sea where you grew up.

It was all remarkable. Good-bye, remarkable. Egypt and Greece good-bye, and good-bye, Rome!

A phone at a cemetery would be ringing off the hook. If you could get them on the phone . .

The Swede had loved that story all his life. Who wrote it? Nobody, as far as he could remember. They'd just studied it in grade school. Johnny Appleseed, out there everywhere planting apple trees. That bag of seeds. I loved that bag.

Rather than looking back nostalgically on a time when Christians wielded more power, I suggest another approach: that we regard ourselves as subversives operating within the broader culture.

Like almost all girls I don't know the date of my birth: my parents did not trouble to record the day and the time. I only know the year and the season, and I only know the season because my mother had a great desire for asparagus when she was carrying me and swears that she ate it too green and her bellyache brought on my birth.

The castle will seem very quiet and strange without you here. The stone stairs and the chapel will miss your footstep, the gateway will will miss your laughter, and the wall will miss your shadow.

He was such a happy boy, and happiness is not memorable.

rattly bridge where the road curves by the old

It was going to be like this forever and ever, Wally knew. Unless the Bensons came back at the end of the year, the Malloys would probably stay in Buckman, and Wally would have to listen to his brothers talk about them for the rest of this life.

I'll remember you acting crazy!

Well, you know what happens to lovers: whenever they see a lyre, a garment or anything else that their beloved is accustomed to use, they know the lyre, and the image of the boy to whom it belongs comes into their mind.

Nostalgia is a fragile and tender anguish, basically different, more intimate, more human than the other pains we had endured till then [...] Nostalgia is a limpid and clean pain, but demanding; it permeates every minute of the day, permits no other thoughts and induces a need for escape.

Our native soil draws all of us, by I know not what sweetness, and never allows us to forget.

One cannot raise walls against what has been forgotten. Heartbroken

I could hear my dad honking his horn impatiently down on the street. I... uh... used to live in your house, I found myself answering. And then I turned and ran full speed down to the street.

Of course, I thought I was badass at sixteen, too. Wait, I was badass at sixteen. Oh, yeah.