Quotes About Nostalgia

The very weather seems to have a quality of the past, faded weather like that of old photographs.

Think of it as if you were standing on one of those globes with a map on it — I always wanted one when I was a boy." "I understand," she said after a minute. "When you do that, you can feel the earth turn, can't you?" He nodded. "Yes. Otherwise it's all just mañana — waiting for the morning or the moon.

Il est possible que Daisy n'ait jamais rencontré l'amour — bien qu'il y ait dans sa voix, sa vraie voix je veux dire, quelque chose qui... [...] Il y a six semaines, et pour la première fois depuis des années, elle a entendu prononcer le nom de Gatsby. [...] Alors de cette voix, justement, sa vraie voix, elle a dit que c'était sans doute celui qu'elle avait connu autrefois.

Il regarda autour de lui avec une brusque violence, comme si le passé était là, tapi dans l'ombre de la maison, mais hors de portée. — Je ferais tout pour que les choses soient comme avant. Exactement comme avant.

Y así seguimos nuestro camino: botes que reman contra la corriente, incesantemente arrastrados hacia el pasado.

But there was Jordan beside me, who, unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well-forgotten dreams from age to age. As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face fell lazily against my coat's shoulder and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand. So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight. *

I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there'll always be the person I am to-night.

He stayed there for a week , walking the streets where their footsteps had clicked together through the November night and revisiting the out-of-the-way places to which they had driven in her white car.

He stretched out his had desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of the spot that she (Daisy) had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and the best, forever.

O Gatsby acreditava na luz verde, no orgíaco futuro que, ano após ano, foge e recua diante de nós. Se hoje nos iludiu, pouco importa: amanhã correremos mais depressa, alongaremos mais os braços...Até que uma bela manhã... Assim vamos teimando, proas contra a corrente, incessantemente cortando as águas, a caminho do passado.

Et nous luttons ainsi, barques à contre-courant, refoulés sans fin vers notre passé.

It's just that I feel so sad these wonderful nights. I sort of feel they're never coming again, and I'm not really getting all I could out of them.

Daisy'nin verandas? y?ld?zlar?n maddi olanaklarda edinilmi? ???lt?s?yla parl?yordu.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then but that's no matter - to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further...And one fine morning - So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

He's just a man names Gatsby.

It's funny, when you're a child you think time will never go by, but when you hit about twenty, time passes like you're on the fast train to Memphis.

He had mourned each of those great trains as, one by one, they were pulled off the lines and left to rust in some yard, like old aristocrats, fading away; antique relics of times gone by.

You know, it's funny what you'll miss when you're away from home. Now me, I miss the smell of coffee Ã¢â'¬Â¦ and bacon frying in the morning.

Grandma Harper has two green bottles shaped like women with black hair painted on their heads and a yellow glass colored captain's hat that she keeps her face powder in that I want too, and a picture of a naked girl in a swing, swinging way up in the air over castles in a blue sky. I don't know why I want those things, I just do.

Evelyn stared into the empty ice cream carton and wondered where the smiling girl in the school pictures had gone.

The band did a salute to Stephen Foster and played 'Beautiful Dreamer' and we formed a bed. Then we played 'My Old Kentucky Home' while the majorettes slowly pranced like horses. We finished with 'I Dream of Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair', we formed a comb. Miss Philpot is running out of ideas if you ask me.

Depression years come back to me now as the happy times, even though we were all struggling. We were happy and didn't know it.

Mrs. Threadgoode pulled something out of the Cracker Jack box and all of a sudden her eyes lit up. "Oh Evelyn, look! Here's my prize. It's a little miniature chicken… just what I like!" and she held it out for her friend to see.

Aunque esté sentada aquí en la Residencia Rose Terrace, mentalmente estoy dando cuenta de un plato de tomates verdes fritos en el café de Whistle Stop. Mrs. Virginia Threadgoode Junio de 1986