Quotes About Nostalgia

Her knuckles smelled of garlic and, faintly, that sleepy, buttery-toast scent my brain was already beginning to recognize.

There are always people missing. And sometimes I see their ghosts.

Galloping over the Yorkshire moors, wild as a lynx, with Christie Horley. Another life I had left.

He was always just about to leave, always about to pick up the phone, and he always persuaded himself for a minute or two that stretched into thirty, into two hours, into night. We go back a long way.

She loved the firm pressure of Gwladus's hand on her crown, the steady strokes of the brush, and the scent of dried lavender and spicy tansy rising from her skirts.

She held out her hands and we hugged. I remembered when she used to engulf me. Now I was an inch or two taller, though her bone and muscle still felt like granite.

She longed for the sound of girls' voices or a woman singing as she fed chickens.

She swallowed, and her heart filled with light she had known as a child.

The horror of progress can only be measured by someone who has known a landscape before and after progress has transformed it.

It never again mattered to me where I lived after I saw the spacious, dilapidated homes pass away and the wide open, deserted fields of my infancy covered with industrial and human filth.

Even as a child I had a strong relationship with yearning and desire. And loss. Those things spoke to me.

It's strange, but sad. I think I'll always be sad.

The good moments of the present are the good memories you will carry into the future.

It was strange to realize that after this night I would never see it again as it was. The room had never looked so beautiful as it did at that moment.

I cannot go any further without mentioning my favourite biscuit of all time, now sadly, tragically, extinct. The oaty, crumbly, demerara notes of the long-forgotten Abbey Crunch will remain forever on my lips. I loved the biscuit as much as anything I have ever eaten, and often, in moments of solitude, I still think about its warm, buttery, sugary self.

On the whole, I prefer Christmas as an adult than I did as a child.

That Great Cocktail Cabinet in the Sky...

You feel something you haven't for years: it's to do with university parties with bathtubs of alcohol and the smell of hamburgers on fingers and beer in a kiss. You should have been disgusted by all that but you weren't. You'd be wet so quick; to get their clothes off, to have their weight upon you, to be rammed against a wall with your leg curled up.

All this has for me an indescribable charm, perhaps because I no longer see it, and because anything from which we are separated is pleasing to us.

And what in earlier years would have brought animation to my face, arousing laughter and incessant chatter, now slips past me and my immobile lips preserve an impassive silence. Oh my youth! Oh my freshness!

I would portray how, in one of these low clay cottages, a dark-browed town girl with quivering young breasts tosses on her solitary bed dreaming of a hussar's mustache and spurs while moonlight laughs on her cheeks.

?i ciufulite,rumene,bete de tigari si de aer,zburam spre cas?.

A person in despair likes to visit the past.

This is an old house. Among the oldest in the area, a white clapboard former farmhouse built in 1748. Fart on the porch and it rattles a floor board in the attic. -Dice (Swoon)