Quotes About Nostalgia

Maybe stories and memories are destined to be incomplete...

I remember a song we used to sing, Columbia, Gem of the Ocean. But I thought it was, Columbus, Jump in the Ocean.

This is how things were: heavyhearted, but done in the traditional manner. THE

Afterward we recited the entire poem together. The bed is lit by moonlight I think it is the light of an early winter morning Looking up, I enjoy the full moon in the night sky Bending over, I miss my hometown We all know that poem is about a scholor who is traveling and missing his home, but on that night and forever after I believed it was about us. Snow Flower was my home and I was hers.

For what other reason might we cling to objects, old photographs, tarnished jewelry, yellowed letters? They're charms, little pieces of magic. When we touch them, we regain for a second what time has stolen or worn away.

The woman I was seems hopelessly naive. I envy her.

A word I read comes to mind: solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia.

People, no one tells you when you're young, fade as time passes without them—all the little qualities and tics, the happy times, the sweet moments, become blurry and vague. It's the bad things that stay with you, the ugly things that nag.

A word I read comes to mind: solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia. Glenn Albrecht defines it as the distress of seeing a familiar environment bitterly transformed by drought, fire, flood, war.

He wondered what it would be like to grow up in one place and stay there all your life, to forever be defined by your childhood relationships, to never know if you got to be the person you wanted to be, to always be the person you were when you were young.

solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia.

Uh, I thought DVDs werne't allowed at my sleepovers. They're not. Then why am i watching the Lady and the Tramp?

What a lot we lost when we stopped writing letters. You can't reread a phone call.

In addition to the smells of mince and pumpkin pies, the Sage and onions of turkey stuffing, another aroma floated in the air, the very essence of Santa Claus. Years later, when I was grown up, I still remembered that marvelous fragrance and recognized it as Scotch whisky.

It was a sad tune," Eilonwy said. "But the odd thing about it is, you don't mind the sadness. It's like feeling better after you've had a good cry. It made me think of the sea again, though I haven't been there since I was a little girl.

It seemed like a garden where no frost could wither or rough wind blow--a garden remembering a hundred vanished summers." ? L.M. Montgomery, Emily of New Moon

Memories are forever.

The worse part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.

Thank you for your childhood.

Once, back in the time of the memories, everything had a shape and size, the way things still do, but they also had a quality called COLOR.

He called after her as she walked away on the path. Alys? Why were we dancing? Take your mind there again, she called back. You'll remember! To herself she murmured, shaking her head with amusement as her eyes twinkled at her own memory. Only thirteen. But we was barefoot and flower-strewn and foolish with first love.

It's just that...without the memories, it's all meaningless.

It's hard to leave the only place you've known.

Over and over. They be making me remember everythings. Me old songs, they just be natural. But now they be stuffing new things into me and this poor head hurts horrid.