Quotes About Nostalgia

This is the biggest damn iPod I've ever seen,' Claire said, which made him choke on his beer. 'Kidding. I have seen a jukebox before.' 'The way you're feeding it, I'm not so sure. You think you picked enough songs?

Morley put his hand over his heart and bowed from the waist, a gesture that somehow reminded Claire of Myrnin. It reminded her she missed him, too, which was just wrong. She should not be missing Morganville, or anyone in it. Especially not the crazy boss vampire who'd put fang marks in her neck that would never, ever go away. She was doomed to high-necked shirts because of him. But she did miss him.

Myrnin had been uncharacteristically quiet since they'd arrived, and she glanced over to see him frowning down at his flip-flops. He probably missed his vampire bunny slippers.

Nostalgia is for normal people.

Nothing like Rome, boy. Gets us all the first time." "And every time after.

how she'd had a cat named Frodo

I stand up from the table and wiggle my index finger at Nick. He'll never get it, but I borrow from Heathers as I leave him to follow Tris. A true friend's work is never done, I singsong. Bulimia is so '87, Heather, he answers. HOLY SHIT squared. I think I just had my first orgasm.

Lou's such an old punk he was around when the Ramones were junkie hustlers first and musicians second, when punk meant something other than a mass-marketing concept designed to help the bridge-and-tunnel crowd feel cool.

I love you for answering the call of a red notebook once upon a time.

Our love had been liking; our feelings had been ordinary, not Shakespearean. I still felt fondness for her—fondness, that pleasant, detached mix of admiration and sentiment, appreciation and nostalgia.

The girl is dressed in a flannel shirt, and I can't tell whether that's because she's trying to bring back the only fashion style of the past fifty years that hasn't been brought back or whether it's because the shirt is as damn comfortable as it looks.

The drapery was so thick and the furniture so cloaked that I half expected to find Sherlock Holmes thumb-wrestling with Jane Austen in the corner. It wasn't as dusty or smoky as one expects a parlor to be, but all the wood had the weight of card catalogs and the fabric seemed soaked in wine. Knee-high sculptures perched in corners and by the fireplace, while jacketless books crowded on shelves, peering down like old professors too tired to speak to one another.

Our love had been liking; our feelings had been ordinary, not Shakespearean. I still felt fondness for her—fondness, that pleasant, detached mix of admiration and sentiment, appreciation and nostalgia. I

What I was sure of was that the bagpipes had begun to play "Fairytale of New York"—which is basically the best Christmas song ever written.

Death Cab for Cutie's "Transatlanticism

I'm going to miss you, too," she said. And then she slipped out of the moment, slipped out of the us, by adding, "I'm going to miss everyone.

Many years ago, he owned a neighborhood family grocery store on Avenue A in the East Village.

But the older you get, the more you realize that, yes, there are all these things that link you to the past, and you're using the same words and singing the same songs that have always been there for you, but each time, things have shifted, and you have to deal with that shift. Because

There's a hole in you where your heart once was. And in its place, you've put history.

When my time is up, I want to cross a River Styx of pure root beer. - Jilly Page 30

When I noticed that some of the gray-haired ladies had tears in their eyes, I understood for the first time why music matters so much, how it reminds us of who we are and where we came from, of all the good times and the sadness, too.

Every home ceased to be a home sooner or later, but not with its demolition. It survived destruction as long as just one person who had loved it still lived. Home was the story of what happened there, not the story of where it happened.

You'll b-b-be sorry. A g-g-girlfriend will w-walk away sooner or later, but a g-good comic b-b-b-book c-can be enjoyed over and over again.

I understood for the first time why music matters so much, how it reminds us of who we are and where we came from, of all the good times and the sadness, too.