Quotes About Nostalgia

What to do with the past? There was so much of it.

Leslie Howard.' 'Howard – yes, I remember him in The Scarlet Pimpernel. He was very good.

He had a collection of science-fiction films on DVD and Blu-ray discs, and although he said he'd seen most of them before, Caitlin was surprised to discover how many of the cases were still shrink-wrapped. "Why'd you buy them if you weren't going to watch them?" she asked. He looked at the tall, thin cabinets that contained the movies and seemed to ponder the question. "My childhood was on sale," he said at last, "so I bought it.

Francesca was feeling good feelings, old feelings, poetry and music feelings.

Stari su snovi bili lijepi snovi; nisu se ispunili, ali sretan sam Å¡to sam ih imao.

I just stand here, about twilight, makin' that ol' horn weep, and I play that tune for a man named Robert Kincaid and a woman he called Francesca.

The old dreams were good dreams; they didn't work out but I'm glad I had them.

It was too late for he and his father to have an adventure, and NOTHING seemed to have any color anymore.

All of us together were of a generation born of old country people who spoke English with an accent and prayed in another language, who drank red wine and cooked their food in the old country way, and peeled apples and pears after dinner.

They had not forgotten.

I realized that nothing ever comes back again quite the same. Things roll on, new sights take the place of the old, and the only way you can do it over is remember

Oh, Ed!" Mom exclaimed. "It's a Victorian.

I was born in Leningrad, but I came here from Saint Petersburg. Physically, the two occupy the same space. Emotionally, they are light years apart.

If I could go through it all again,the slender iron rungs of growing up,I would be as young as any,a child lostin unreality and loud music.

No one like one's mother and father ever lived.

He always wrote on the flyleaf of each new book the date and where he was, so I can follow him: reading Chesterton just after they were married in November 1929, Scottish poets the following spring.

GIs were good for a Hershey's bar.

humming a few bars of vintage Springsteen.

There were no more heroes. Kennedy was dead, shot by an assassin in Dallas. Batman and Robin were dead... Superman was missing...

Those days are long gone.

There's a land—oh, it beckons and beckons, And I want to go back—and I will.

A park like this resembles a large, silent, isolated room. In fact it's always Sunday in a park, by the way, for it's always a bit melancholy, and the melancholy stirs up vivid memories of home, and Sunday is something that only ever existed at home, where you were a child.

The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealised past.

The house stank; a stench all its own pervaded every corner. It was a threnody in the key of Cat minor, with a ground-bass of Old Dog, and modulations of old people, waning lives, and relinquished hopes.