Quotes About Nostalgia

Make a list of all the lovers you've ever had. Warren Lasher Ed Rubberhead Catapano Charles Deats or Keats Alfonse Tuck it in your pocket. Leave it lying around, conspicuously. Somehow you lose it. Make mislaid jokes to yourself. Make another list.

Blasts from the past were like the rooms one entered and re-entered in dreams: they would not stay nailed down. When you returned to them, they had changed - they suddenly had more space or a tilt or a door that had not been there before. New people were milling around, the floors undulated, and the sun shone newly, strangely in the windows, or through the now blasted-open ceiling, or else it shone not at all, as if having fled the sky.

My mother's capacity for happiness was a small soup bone salting a large pot.

And yet the deprivation of her intimacy had made a small dent in his heart, and in his breathing, and in the hard candy of his eyes. The thought of her was everywhere but nowhere—an omniscient narrator.

When I go back to the places of the past, nothing is there anymore, as if I have made the whole thing up. It is as if life were just a dream placed in the window to cool, like a pie, then stolen.

That was also back in the days when I thought the ice-cream man lived in his truck

From Charades: when she was younger she was a frustrated mother, so she is pleased when her children act as is they don't remember

I steal back into dreams of you, your unmade bed a huge open-faced sandwich.

I nodded, trying to imagine the very particular sadness of a vanished childhood yogurt now found only in France. It was a very special sort of sadness, individual, and in its inability to induce sympathy, in its tuneless spark, it bypassed poetry and entered science.

The memory of things gone is important to a jazz musician. Things like old folks singing in the moonlight in the back yard on a hot night or something said long ago.

few sagging houses whose stones had lost their mortar and were held together only by gravity and habit

The half-forgotten island of Cephallonia rises improvidently and inadvisedly from the Ionian Sea; it is an island so immense in antiquity that the very rocks themselves exhale nostalgia and the red earth lies stupefied not only by the sun, but by the impossible weight of memory.

There comes a point in life where each one of us who survives begins to feel like a ghost that has forgotten to die at the right time, and certainly most of us were more amusing when we were young. It seems that age folds the heart in on itself. Some of us walk detached, dreaming on the past, and some of us realize that we have lost the trick of standing in the sun.

People only talk about how wonderful youth is when they have forgotten how hard it was.

Since I was a small boy, I had watched that forest for enemies or for game, and I knew its every mood and shading, how the sunlight fell through the leaves and where the shadows gathered. It held no mysteries for me but much of memory. I had played there as a child with Yance, Jubal, and Brian, later with Noelle. We had climbed its trees, picked berries there, and played hide-and-seek under its branches.

The things a man will wish for are harder to leave behind than all his wants...

In reliving the old days and replaying the old games, he avoided a hard look at whatever future might lay ahead of him.

when does a man leave a place he has lived without some regret? For each time some part of him is left behind. So

turkey sandwich, piece of chocolate cake, apple, and Tootsie Roll pop tasted like Miss Mush's porridge.

I wonder who she was, said Zero. Who? Mary Lou, said Zero. Stanley smiled. I guess she was once a real person on a real lake. It's hard to imagine. I bet she was pretty, said Zero. Somebody must have loved her a lot, to name a boat after her. Yeah, said Stanley. I bet she looked great in a bathing suit, sitting in the boat while her boyfriend rowed.

Preserve your memories, keep them well, what you forget you can never retell.

I never wanted to go away, and the hard part now is the leaving you all. I'm not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven.

Some stories are so familiar its like going home.

I Know I shall be homesick for you... Even in heaven