Quotes About Nostalgia

My grandmother made me a scrapbook because I was once too young to remember; I am making scrapbooks for my family because one day I may be too old to remember.

People seem to get nostalgic about a lot of things they weren't so crazy about the first time around.

Memories are stitched with love.

My days are past.

When I get older losing my hairMany years from nowWill you still be sending me a ValentineBirthday greetings, bottle of wine.If I'd been out till quarter to threeWould you lock the door,Will you still need me, will you still feed meWhen I'm sixty-four.

Homecoming means tradition.

I'd consider being a farmer. As long as I could live on the Pepperidge Farm. And raise Milanos.

I ran up the door, opened the stairs, said my pajamas and put on my prayers — turned off my bed, tumbled into my light, and all because he kissed me good-night!

Déjà Brew: The feeling that you've had this coffee before.

Homecoming means more than kings and queens.

The past is a good place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

Don't let yourself forget what it's like to be sixteen.

"And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,Edward, Edward?"

Oh bury me not on the lone prairieWhere the wild coyotes will howl o'er me.

I came to the place of my birth, and cried, "The friends of my youth, where are they?" And echo answered, "Where are they?"

Au clair de la lune,Mon ami Pierrot,Prête-moi ta plumePour écrire un mot.

Curlylocks, Curlylocks,Wilt thou be mine?Thou shalt not wash dishesNor yet feed the swine,But sit on a cushionAnd sew a fine seam,And feed upon strawberries,Sugar and cream.

There was an old womanLived under a hill;And if she's not gone,She lives there still.

Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you,Way-hay, you rolling river!Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you,Ha-ha, we're bound away,'Cross the wide Missouri!

Une pendule inlocalisable perdue parmi les ténèbres des armoires laissait s'égoutter des heures étouffées dans un quelconque couloir lointain encombré de malles de bois précieux et conduisant à des chambres raides et humides où le cadavre de Proust flottait encore, éparpillant dans l'air raréfié un relent usé d'enfance.

continua a surpreender-me o número de recordações que se podem pendurar lado a lado no fio de uma lágrima)" - pg 130/616

sempre que passamos por esta fotografia a minha mulher a demorar-se numa espécie de sorriso voltado na direcção da infância

As I walked towards travel, that illusion of liberation, I strangely felt myself walking back into childhood.

There is a profound middle-class nostalgia for the days of British protection....