Quotes About Nostalgia

He gave me this advice one time: Never marry your childhood sweetheart, he said; the reasons that make you choose her will all turn into reasons why you should have rejected her.

what would you do if all the lovers of your years passed by at midnight dressed in the flesh they wore when you last loved them? what do I do? what do I say? I loved you then, I touch you now with all the glow you left in the palm of my hands.

Reread your favorite novel, the one you only let yourself read any more when you're sick in bed.

There are few things more rejuvenating than sharing a belly-bursting laugh with an old friend.

A full family photo album is far more impressive to me than an overflowing bank account. Honestly.

Aquélla sería su casa. Aunque para Julián aquel mundo mágico de Sivana era una absoluta novedad, tenía sin embargo la sensación de que era un poco como volver a casa, un regreso a un paraíso que hubiera conocido mucho tiempo atrás. Aquella aldea de rosas no le resultaba

They were kids. Kids don't care about totalitarianism. For my parents, Prague is picnics on Petrin Hill and homemade knedliky . It's home. They didn't notice the tanks in the backyard, the blood in the streets.

See them in their golden hour, a flood of girls high on the ecstasy of the final bell, tumbling onto the city bus, all gawky limbs and Wonderbra cleavage, chewed nails picking at eruptive zits, lips nibbling and eyes scrunching in a doomed attempt not to cry. Girls with plaid skirts tugged unfathomably high above the knee, girls seizing the motion of the bus to throw themselves bodily into their objects of affection.

Born in a house where the door's shut tight Shadowy fingers on the curtains at night Cherry tree blossom head high snow A busy main road where I wasn't to go

The ghosts . . . try to remember the sunlight. Light has died out of their skies.

She tasted like buried treasure and swing sets and coffee. She tasted the way fireworks felt, like something you could get close to but never really have just for yourself.

Girls walk into a room. The boys sit up. Women in their late forties walk into a room. Men in their fifties sit up, straighten their backs, pull down the fronts of their hoodies. It made me want to cry. I felt I was going right back into the life I'd missed.

You don't need a time machine if you know how to remember.

I think in some ways it's like that for all of us, living with the ghosts of things that used to be, or never were. We're all of us haunted by yesterday, and we got no choice but to keep marching into our tomorrows. Keep marching, boys and girls. Keep marching.

The Toys of a Lifetime

Saturday Night Fever was Gene Siskel's favorite movie, and he watched it at least seventeen times. We all have movies like that, titles that transcend ordinary categories of good and bad and penetrate straight to our hearts.

The glamour Of childish days is upon me

Every form of social and political belief that lies before us today is related to the Romantic movement, for that is the archetype of our ongoing attempt to live by our own devices. This is more true of socialism than of conservatism, in fact – socialism being a kind of diseased nostalgia for the future, which is yet more damaging than nostalgia for the past.

Many accuse conservatism of being no more than a highly-wrought work of mourning, a translation into the language of politics of the yearning for childhood that lies deep in us all.

Did you ever look back at some moment in your past and have it suddenly grow so vivid that all the intervening years seemed brief, dreamlike, impersonal—the motions of a May afternoon surrendered to routine?

But I recall the springtime of the world as though it were yesterday—those days when we rode together to battle, and those nights when we shook the stars loose from the fresh-painted skies!

Nothing is cheaper than past glories.

Sve dok nisam došao do ?arobne rije?i. Amber. (...) Rije? bijaše nabijena strahovitom ?ežnjom i golemom nostalgijom. Imala je, zamotan u sebi, osje?aj zaboravljene ljepote, grandioznih dostignu?a i mo?i užasne i gotovo kona?ne. Nekako, ta je rije? pripadala mom rje?niku. I nekako, ja bijah dio nje, a ona dio mene. Bijaše to ime mjesta, znao sam, mjesta koje sam neko? poznavao. Ali nije izazivala nikakve slike, samo osje?aje.

Why should I suddenly remember 1905 and Paris on the shadow Earth, save that I was very happy that year and I might, reflectively, have sought an antidote for the present?