Quotes About Nostalgia

Cambio de perfumes constantemente. Si he llevado uno tres meses, me obligo a dejarlo aun cuando todavía me guste seguir llevándolo; así, siempre que lo huelo de nuevo recuerdo aquellos tres meses. Nunca vuelvo a usarlo; se convierte en parte de mi colección permanente de olores.

Sometimes, we do ourselves a disservice to yearn for what we've lost. For if we try to find it again, we might discover faults and blemishes memory has been kind enough to erase.

which pisses her off and makes her scream and i look around my room and miss me.

Maybe his heart is searching for and not finding the place it used to live. I understand that because mine is searching and not finding too.

Sometimes it seemed as if the past was a painting that she had dipped in water, allowing the colours to run and drip, merge and fade so that an entirely altered landscape remained.

Each house has its own signature, unknown to all except the grown children who go back to visit.

To what extent does time distort memory>

Grace wonders if Tom and Claire will one day visit her and have a similar sensation of home. Each house has its own signature, unknown to all except the grown children who go back to visit

But before that, before the farm went bad, Alphonse remembers being happy. He didn't know it was happiness and couldn't have put a name to it then - in fact he's pretty sure he never even thought about it - but now he knows that it was happiness.

Sometimes you couldn't face the sadness of being forgotten until you felt the comfort of being remembered again.

She'd cried over a broken heart before. She knew what that felt like, and it didn't feel like this. Her heart felt not so much broken as just ... empty. It felt like she was an outline empty in the middle. The outline cried senselessly for the absent middle. The past cried for the present that was nothing.

I always search for her; I always remember her. I carry the hope that someday she will remember me.

But it was smell that carried memory.

Those were the people who made her something, and without them she was different. She'd held on to them and to that old self tenaciously, though. She clung to it, celebrated it, worshipped it even, instead of constructing a new grown-up life for herself. For years she'd been eating the cold crumbs left over from a great feast, living on them as though they could last her forever.

It was their mothers, long ago. Tibby noted with joy that all four of them were wearing jeans.

She'd never felt about anyone the way she'd felt about him. Not even close. She knew that when she got old it would be more fun to look back on a life of romance and adventure than a life of quiet habits. But looking back was easy. It was the doing that was painful.

Sometimes when she thought of Eric, and now more powerfully when she saw him, she felt some achy nostalgia for her old self. For the dauntless, daring soul she used to be. There were certain qualities you possessed carelessly. And you couldn't retrieve them when they were gone.

I still think about him sometimes. I dream about him too. I try to remember what he looked like. It's hard to remember, though, either because of time or because of strong feelings. I sometimes think the stronger you feel about someone the harder it is to picture their face when you are away from them.

By day she studied and touched her mother's things, and by night, she dreamed about them. The dreams gave her as fragmented a vision of Marley as the boxes in the attic did. There were a thousand dramatic episodes, but very little sense of the person linking them together

Time was moving backward, it seemed, and the future was mostly forgotten.

Once upon a time there was a pair of pants.

Now it came back in jagged flashes, like the sunlight on the pavements. She thought, This is what it is like to be old. This is how old people remember their childhood.

But liberals love to drape themselves in decades-old glories they had nothing to do with.

My first trip to New York City, when I was seven, was a world wind of Macy's, the Empire State building, and club sandwiches at a diner. On a whim, my parents took us there for the day, and my strongest memory is a revolving doors. It seemed to me than that to enter anywhere in Manhattan, you had to step into one and spin.