Quotes About Nostalgia

we shall never be what we were again'. Old love's refrain.

Cinta pertama itu tetap unggul, mencakar-cakar kerinduan dan kenangan, menyembunyi dan merahsiakan sebahagian keanehannya, dan akhirnya menjadi sukar dimengerti, apalagi disambung. m/s 144

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

Old guns rarely die, they just hang on walls.

goodbye..? Why can't we go back to page one and do it all over again?

Silly old Bear

Piglet opened the letter box and climbed in. Then, having untied himself, he began to squeeze into the slit, through which in the old days when front doors were front doors, many an unexpected letter than WOL had written to himself, had come slipping.

We didn't realize we were making memories, we just knew we were having fun.

Childhood is not the happiest time of one's life, but only to a child is pure happiness possible.

HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY. Pooh

There, just inside the gates, was Mary. He was only six, but even then he knew that never would he see again anything so beautiful. She was five; but there was something in her manner of holding herself and the imperious tilt of her head which made her seem almost five-and-a-half. [From John Penquarto A Tale of Literary Life in London

In Which Piglet Is Entirely Surrounded by Water 130 X In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Good-bye 147

The year might age, and cloudy The lessening day might close, But air of other summers Breathed from beyond the snows, And I had hope of those. They came and were and are not And come no more anew; And all the years and seasons That ever can ensue Must now be worse and few. So here's an end of roaming On eves when autumn nighs: The ear too fondly listens For summer's parting sighs, And then the heart replies.

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

Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again.

With Rue My Heart Is Laden With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade.

Study of the past often turns into love of the past and a desire to keep it.

Ne zaman ki dinledi?iniz ?ark?lar size onu hat?rlatmaz; i?te ancak o zaman hayattan bir tat alabilirsiniz .

S'il existe un cimetière des mots arrachés aux êtres qui comprennent, je veux pouvoir m'y promener.

Nostalgia for the mud.

On our way home we throw the apples, the biscuits, the chocolate and the coins in the tall grass by the roadside. It is impossible to throw away the stroking on our hair

Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever… It remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.

Elkins sat and watched her go down the hall. He had always loved red hair. His first love, a girl in his third grade class, had red hair. And he had always liked white shorts on a shapely woman.

The lights of my generation have almost all gone out.