Quotes About Nostalgia

We can't ever go back to old things or try and get the "old kick" out of something or find things the way we remembered them. We have them as we remember them and they are fine and wonderful and we have to go on and have other things because the old things are nowhere except in our minds now.

I kept this to remind me of you trying to brush away the Villa Rossa from your teeth in the morning, swearing and eating aspirin and cursing harlots. Every time I see that glass I think of you trying to clean your conscience with a toothbrush.

But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there.

You're remembering well today,' she said. 'Don't do it too much.

In the fall the war was always there, but we did not go to it anymore.

Good-bye, you chaps," Mike said. "It was a damned fine fiesta." "So long, Mike," Bill said. "I'll see you around," I said. "Don't worry about money," Mike said. "You can pay for the car, Jake, and I'll send you my share." "So long, Mike." "So long, you chaps. You've been damned nice." We all shook hands. We waved from the car to Mike. He stood in the road watching.

I regarded home as a place I left behind in order to come back to it afterward.

He thought of the Riviera, as it was then before it had all been built up, with the lovely stretches of blue sea and the sand beaches and the stretches of pine woods and the mountains of the Esterel going out into the sea. He remembered it as it was when he and Zelda had first found it before people went there for the summer.

For all of us who lived in Paris; we will never forget it because Paris is a moveable feast

Just as, with the radio, there are certain things that you become fond of, and you welcome them and resent the new things

Leave me with my memories. With my true, beautiful memories.

I wish I had the boy.

The cider tasted like Michigan too and I always remembered the cider mill

How are you? You old love-house of always.

There never was another part of Paris that he loved like that

There are always mystical countries that are a part of one's childhood. Those we remember and visit sometimes when we are asleep and dreaming. They are as lovely at night as they were when we were children. If you ever go back to see them they are not there. But they are as fine in the night as they ever were if you have the luck to dream of them.

It was warm and like the spring and I walked down the alleyway of trees, warmed from the sun on the wall, and found we still lived in the same house and that it all looked the same as when I had left it.

He was beautiful, the old man remembered, and he had stayed.

Think about something cheerful, old man, he said. Every minute now you are closer to home.

And I know old songs such as the loss of John Jacob Astor on the Titanic when sunk by an iceberg and I would be glad to sing them rather than that no peas no rice song if you so wish.

These were relics of his wife. Once there had been a tinted photograph of his wife on the wall but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to see it and it was on the shelf in the corner under his clean shirt.

In those days you did not really need anything, not even the rabbit's foot, but it was good to feel it in your pocket.

All I wanted to do now was get back to Africa. We had not left it, yet, but when I would wake in the night I would lie, listening, homesick for it already.

this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy