Quotes About Nostalgia

Rompre avec les choses réelles, écrit Chateaubriand, ce n'est rien. Mais rompre avec les souvenirs !… Le cœur se brise à la séparation des rêves. »

M-am n?scut într-o lume cu privirile a?intite înapoi. Trecutul avea pentru ea mai mult? greutate decât prezentul.

Un timp care curgea în sens contrar ?i care nu înceta niciodat? s? urce spre izvoarele sale. Un spa?iu al c?rui centru era acest leag?n al familiei spre care moartea ne aducea înapoi.

trecutul meu este trecut, mai trecut decât alte trecuturi, ?i se scufund? în întuneric.

Worse than not realizing the dreams of your youth would be to have been young and never dreamed at all.

Vous savez ce que c'est, un grenier? C'est plein de choses qui sont comme mortes : d'anciennes armoires toutes cassées, de mauvais souliers, des corsages qui ont fait leur temps; enfin, des choses qu'on a mis là pour les laisser mourir toutes seules. Quand on les revoit, elles ont l'air de vous le reprocher; c'est toujours un peu triste.

I remembered the room, on the third floor, which had a massive four-poster bed (this had also, apparently, come with the house; I could hardly imagine getting it in or out!)

I don't think I was young even when I actually was young, and that wasn't yesterday.

He rode alone to the tenth floor, got off and strode into the newsroom. It was so strange, he thought, to see it empty. It was not the way he wanted to remember it.

Draw a floor plan of the house you lived in as a child, including all the floors.

Memory is the only paradise from which we cannot be driven.

Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.

Our memories are the only paradise from which we can never be expelled.

She'd permed her hair to within an inch of its life. When she moved her head, the mass of hair followed along behind her a split second later." Perhaps you had to live through the late 70's, early 80's to appreciate this.

But it was hard not to think of her mother as she moved from the sink to the oven and back again, tasting and chopping and doing her best impersonation of her mother. She felt, not a presence, exactly. Something more earthbound, a better understanding, perhaps, of her mother and the life she lived. The endless small chores, the worries, never enough time, and always the barely movable obstacles of her husband and children.

think that every one, no matter how many troubles he may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon.

It is funny how certain places get connected with certain people, and you never go back without thinking of them.

I think that every one , no matter how many troubles the may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon. And if I ever have any children of my own, no matter how unhappy I may be, I am not going to let them have any cares until they grow up.

Her eyes wandered back to the campus again, and she suddenly grew sober as the thought swept over her that in a few weeks more it would be hers no longer. This happy, irresponsible community life, which had come to be the only natural way of living, was suddenly at an end.

I think that everyone, no matter how many troubles he may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon. And if I ever have any children of my own, no matter how unhappy I may be, I am not going to let them have any cares until they grow up.

That sense of some distant, unknown country from where she'd come and toward which she seemed to want to return.

I shed a few tears as we passed the corner café where I used to drop in for a bite. I can weep discreetly. People think my eye is watering.

There's a tug-of-war in his heart already, between wanting to remember and needing to forget.

He can prolong the moment of irrational hope that maybe some sliver of yesterday's world is still intact.