Quotes About Nostalgia

What will die with me the day I die? What pathetic or frail image will be lost to the world? The voice of Macedonio Fernandez, the image of a bay horse in a vacant lot on the corner of Sarrano and Charcas, a bar of sulfur in the drawer of a mahogany desk?

Cuando uno extraña un lugar, lo que realmente extraña es la época que corresponde a ese lugar; no se extrañan los sitios, sino los tiempos.

Mi memoria a veces se parece demasiado al olvido.

Misery requires paradises lost

I...confirm the fact - with a certain bittersweet melancholy - that everything in the world brings me back to a quotation or a book.

I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.

Every so many years, he went to England to visit—judging by the photographs he showed us—a sundial and some oak trees.

La soledad era perfecta y tal vez hostil, y Dahlmann pudo sospechar que viajaba al pasado y no sólo al Sur.

Que un individuo quiera despertar en otro individuo recuerdos que no pertenecieron más que a un tercero es una paradoja evidente. Ejecutar con despreocupación esa paradoja, es la inocente voluntad de toda biografía.

Basta caminar algún trecho por la implacable rigidez que los espejos del pasado nos abren, para sentirnos forasteros y azorarnos cándidamente de nuestras jornadas antiguas. No hay en ellas comunidad de intenciones, ni un mismo viento que las empuja.

17 La vieja mano sigue trazando versos para el olvido

each time I cross one of the streets in South Buenos Aires, I think of you, Helen;

I thought of my mother late that night, after leaving Dorothy, as I followed the moon's path back home across the Moose River. My mother, maybe she was in that moon's light. I didn't know any more, but when I was younger, Iuse to imagine that she was. I'd talk to the moon some nights, and I knew my mother listened. I haven't done that in a long time, me. -Through Black Spruce, Joseph Boyden, ch 13, pg 119

There are places in which things don't change. These are a substitute for one's memory.

It's a maddening thing in itself to look at an old poem of yours." —

That story I loved so much as a child has become all too real to me now. But I'm not the boy in that old story who could run forever without tiring. I don't have a bow and arrow. No weapons at all.

But now I am six. And I'm clever as clever. And now I think I'll stay six now forever and ever.

We didn't know we were making memories, we were just having fun

I do remember,' explained Christopher Robin, 'only Pooh doesn't very well, so that's why he likes having it told to him again. Because then it's a real story and not just a remembering.

With rue my heart is ladenFor golden friends I had,For many a rose-lipped maidenAnd many a lightfoot lad.

Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge,Gold that I never see.

Far in a western brooklandThat bred me long agoThe poplars stand and trembleBy pools I used to know.

Oh, when I was in love with you,Then I was clean and brave,And miles around the wonder grewHow well I did behave.And now the fancy passes by,And nothing will remain,And miles around they'll say that IAm quite myself again.

She loved the beauty and the grace of the good old days, but not the rules that kept kids from talking and women from lifting heavy objects if they wanted to. Raleia was beginning to think it would be better to invent a whole new time period where she could pull things from then and now to make the perfect place.