Quotes About Nostalgia

I loved it in the unconditional way that children love their first home.

lay a lost and delightful world, the world of my childhood, the world of sweet and irresponsible days at Qunu and Mqhekezweni. Now I was a man, and I would never again play thinti, or steal maize, or drink milk from a cow's udder.

I am really looking forward to driving another of my father?s car at the show in Rotterdam.

Being on 'Glee' was amazing. I remember my first day on set, my first day I arrived to the set I was in my trailer and all of the actors came and banged on my door - Lea Michele, Chris Colfer, Amber Riley, Naya Rivera. They all welcomed me with open arms, so it was a great experience. It felt like family, and I miss them a lot over there.

The place was a mausoleum. Anna was reminded of Great Expectations, of the old woman in her decaying wedding dress presiding over a feast long go eaten by mice and worms.

Anna drove with the window rolled down, breathing in the essence of autumn: an exhalation of a forest readying itself for sleep, a smell so redolent with nostalgia a pleasant ache warmed her bones and she was nagged with the sense of a loss she could not remember.

For the first few years of my life my mom used to cut my hair so there were a lot of bowl-cut hair styles.

No. He'll remain here. But - but - you sometimes get a feeling you're going away from someone forever...

the "Sonia Gluck as I knew her" gag?

Nobody who's lived an anyway decent amount of life remembers everything.

Pieces of story she would discover intact in her. She would draw them into the air with a single phrase and be elsewhere for a moment, eyes distant and eyelashes winging as an image fleeted past. Christy would gently try and bring forth more, but like a fallen chandelier inside her the whole was shattered and beyond repair and there were only exquisite shards.

The tops of pages are river-and-rain-warped, the whole book buckled a bit from travel, age and pockets, but it's a book that feels companionable somehow, if you know what I mean. In it there are many pages with lines underscored, or in some cases with just ascending wing-like Nike tick-marks next to a paragraph.

This is my father's story. I am writing it to find him. But to get where you're going, you have to first go backwards. That's directions in Ireland, it's also T.S. Eliot.

When he was small he held the label inside his pillowcase when he slept. Only I know that. I was not a sleeper. His hand in sleep searched to find it. He would take the label between thumb and forefinger and just move it slightly against itself, over and back, as if the smallest friction was sufficient, as if with that he knew he was still in the world.

The truth is, like all places in the past, it cannot be found any longer.

When I was little, especially when I visited my mom in L.A., the only escape I had was watching movies. It was the one thing that could take me out of myself—let me forget the world I lived in.

He was forty-two, after all. This was just the age when men went off the rails, drank and bought motorbikes and had affairs, trying to be young again. But he didn't want a motorbike and he didn't want an affair. He didn't want to be young again. All that awkwardness and pain, that sense of being in the wrong life.

It's like she's the living dead,' says Pauline. 'A long time ago, I lost her. I talk, and there's no reaction. Sometimes, when she laughs, or something in the tone of her voice - then I recognise the way we were twenty years ago. You fill in the gaps and the memories. Then she leaves again. You say goodbye all the time.

It was Calzas who told me that your life is a road along which you leave many markers - points in time and places on the map. The ones in time you can only revisit in your mind, and they never change. The places can be revisited firsthand, but they're constantly changing. To keep a place the same, he said, you can no longer return to it - and then it becomes a point in time.

What I missed was what I missed every year when the season ended and abruptly the radio was quiet. I missed them.

At Christmas, 'It's a Wonderful Life' makes me cry in exactly the same places every time, even though I know it's coming.

It wasn't that long, and it certainly wasn't the kind of kiss you see in movies these days, but it was wonderful in its own way, and all I can remember about the moment is that when our lips touched, I knew the memory would last forever.

There's no love like the first.

This wave of nostalgia which constantly reminds us that we can never go home again.