Quotes About Nostalgia

The smell of his grandparents' home is always the same: a mix of woodsmoke, polish, leather, wool.

The garden, Kitty, the boat, the minister, their grandmother, that handkerchief.

Iris wonders sometimes how she would explain Alex, if she needed to. How would she begin? Would she say, we grew up together? Would she say, but we're not related by blood? Would she say that in her bag she carries a pebble he gave her more than twenty years ago? And that he doesn't know this?

And she holds the photograph. She holds it in her hands. She looks at it and she knows.

I think about the person I was in my mid 20's. I consider her. I try to recall how it felt to be that age. What were the frameworks of her days? The patterns of her thoughts? I am as far from her now as she was from her childhood. She is the median line between me and my birth.

You're like a song that I heard when I was a little kid but forgot I knew until I heard it again.

If they Brought you back the old cafes, who will bring you back the old friends?

I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a single word: Home.

You ask: What is the meaning of "homeland"? They will say: The house, the mulberry tree, the chicken coop, the beehive, the smell of bread, and the first sky. You ask: Can a word of eight letters be big enough for all of these, yet too small for us?

Get rid of my tomorrow. Return my yesterday and leave us alone together. After you nothing leaves and nothing returns.

Take me back to where I was before I met you, then leave

March roses shall burn me in the land where I was first born. / Pomegranate blossoms will conceive of me, / and I will be born from it once more.

What would happen if I were to become A child again? And I returned to you… and you returned to me.

Quiere ser una mariposa. ¿Las mariposas tienen recuerdos? Las mariposas son los recuerdos del que sabe cantar junto a las fuentes. ¿Y el canta? Aún es pequeño.

Sentimentality and nostalgia are closely related. Kissing cousins. I have no time for nostalgia, though. Nostalgics believe the past is nicer than the present. It isn't. Or wasn't. Nostalgics want to cuddle the past like a puppy. But the past has bloody teeth and bad breath. I look into its mouth like a sorrowing dentist.

Maman chérie dont je n'imagine pas, dans mon paradis enfantin, qu'on puisse un jour me séparer.

I could travel back in time, way back, when at a home with too many mouths to feed, love was a constant accompaniment to each spare meal. …. With my food, I could recall the person I used to be. Before everything changed.

Porquinho-da-Índia Quando eu tinha seis anos Ganhei um porquinho-da-índia. Que dor de coração me dava Porque o bichinho só queria estar debaixo do fogão! Levava ele prá sala Pra os lugares mais bonitos mais limpinhos Ele não gostava: Queria era estar debaixo do fogão. Não fazia caso nenhum das minhas ternurinhas . . . — O meu porquinho-da-índia foi minha primeira namorada.

Van entretenir-se més en arribar a les dues cases contigües on havien viscut i que, passatgerament, ressuscitaren en ells una emoció fàcil de contenir, perquè ara ja no eren aquelles dues criatures que, de sobte, ho perdien tot, sinó un noi i una noia aleshores inexistents, la història dels quals començava al moment que es decidien a ser origen i no acabament.

la nostalgia es la mayor de las penitencias que cumplen los hombres al paso de los años.

Imposible mencionar a San Ángel sin recordar tiempos que pasaron y que, como las golondrinas de Bécquer, no volverán.

Most of the movies I saw growing up were viewed as totally disposable, fine for quick consumption, but they have survived 50 years and are still growing.

Una mañana mi madre me dio un pedazo de pan que parecía recién hecho o quizá lo imagino recién hecho y un puñado de aceitunas negras, muy sabrosas, de esas aceitunas arrugadas que se llaman de Aragón. Recuerdo aquellos sabores, la alegría de mi libertad en la calle. La mirada protectora de mi madre. Si pudiera volver a aquella mañana.

Me fui dando cuenta de que soñar es como caminar entre voces que flotan y pasos que resuenan. Como caminar por una ciudad que conociste y has olvidado. A veces hay esquinas donde se puede encontrar lo que has perdido. A veces algo muy lindo, otras veces algo que es mejor no recordar.