Quotes About Nostalgia

Now Arn remembered and said that this was indeed a vivid memory, but it was also an event that was considerably better to remember than it was at the time.

No matter how far we travel, the memories will follow in the baggage car.

It makes everything innocent again," she said. "A winter Eden.

Old post cards, tin wind-up toys with rusted gears, buttons long out of fashion, ticket stubs found in a shoebox in the attic—these are the things Alice likes, not new stuff that comes sealed in plastic.

Alice twists a lock of her hair as she sucks on her straw and swivels back and forth on her seat. The shush of the ball bearings sounds like the sea to her, like waves retreating through the sand. She is a thousand miles away. I know this, but I'm not going to let her know I know.

She reached her doorstep. The key turned sweetly in the lock. That was the kind of thing one remembered about a house: not the size of the rooms or the color of the walls, but the feel of the door-handles and light-switches, the shape and texture of the banister-rail under one's palm; minute tactual intimacies, whose resumption was the essence of coming home.

Mrs. Miniver put the last sheet back on top of the others and clipped them all together again. No, she could not possibly throw them away: they contained too much of her life. Besides, however clear one's memories seemed to be, it did one no harm to polish them up from time to time. One is what one remembers: no more, no less.

De steeds weer terugkerende dagdroom in mijn jeugd was, vooral op wasdag, om rijk te worden en dan voor mijn moeder een lieflijk landelijk paradijs aan te schaffen waar onder het loverzwaar geboomte op het mollige gras tientallen jonge vrouwen in luchtige zomerjurkjes met kittige schortjes om de was voor haar deden in blinkend gegalvaniseerde wasteiltjes en op bijna schertsachtige wasbordjes die de allure hadden van rococo-harpjes.

Hebt u nog ouwe spulletjes? Alleen mezelf.

Slapping a man across the face with a fish hasn't been sexy since the fifties.

It's been many years since I had such an exemplary vegetable.

The post office has a great charm at one point of our lives. When you have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going through the rain for.

With 'Bright Star' and with 'The Piano ' too, I felt a kind of sadness about it being in such a different era, because of my lack of experience with the era. And one of the ways I'd get over it is to remind myself that every film, even if it's contemporary, creates its own world.

I've heard them lilting, at the ewe milking,Lasses a' lilting, before dawn of day;But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaning;The flowers of the forest are a' wede away.

Apie praeit?, nebent ji b?t? be galo laiminga, vaikai kalb?ti nelink?.

In a human-sized room, someone is setting a human-sized table, with yellow napkins, someone is calling her children to come in from a day whose losses as yet remain child-sized.

My earliest acting memory is making up a play for my mom and dad called The Lonesome Baby. I have no idea what The Lonesome Baby was about. I just remember the title. But I'm sure it was an epic.

We try a new drug, a new combination of drugs, and suddenly I fall into my life again like a vole picked up by a storm then dropped three valleys and two mountains away from home. I can find my way back. I know I will recognize the store where I used to buy milk and gas. I remember the house and barn, the rake, the blue cups and plates, the Russian novels I loved so much, and the black silk nightgown that he once thrust into the toe of my Christmas stocking.

He remembers when you didn't need FBI clearance to talk to a ballplayer and baseball was what you did until you grew up.

It's interesting because a lot of my 16-year-old kids' friends know me from 'Wedding Crashers ' and not so much Bond. My kids have a good laugh. I was 20 then. The look I had then was the look that a lot of their friends are assuming now. They think it's cool. What goes around comes around.

Like most of the educated, I do harbor a fondness for the sins of my ignorant past.

History is what people want to remember.

As she sucked on her cherry bonbon, her tongue found the ridge of the swastika on the fruitdrop's sugar coat, the sourness beneath the sweet, and the image of grandmother came to her, with her gentle eyes and her bagful of Gummi bears and marzipan pigs.

Midler Memories – Barbra Streisand Imagine – John