Quotes About Nostalgia

I remember loving pencils. I was fond of paper. I loved the small of textbooks. I loved the way the light from a desk lamp was bright on a page. I loved the smell of fresh-cut grass. It was a thing everybody loved, but there was no shame in being that much like everybody else, in sharing that.

There is a fragrance in the air, a certain passage of a song, an old photograph falling out from the pages of a book, the sound of somebody's voice in the hall that makes your heart leap and fills your eyes with tears. Who can say when or how it will be that something easters up out of the dimness to remind us of a time before we were born and after we will die?

When friends speak overmuch of times gone by, often it's because they sense their present time is turning them from friends to strangers. Long before the moment came to say goodbye, I think, we said goodbye in other words and ways and silences. Then when the moment came for it at last, we didn't say it as should be said by friends. So now at last, dear Mouse, with many, many years between: goodbye.

The past is the place we view the present from as much as the other way around.

It is more than just memory, I think, that binds us to the past. The past is the place we view the present from as much as the other way around...

When Jesus said, "Do this in remembrance of me" (1 Corinthians 11:24) he was not prescribing a periodic slug of nostalgia.

The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek.

Everything that I have known You'll write to me to remind Me of, and likewise I shall do The whole past I'll recount to you

Las delicias de este mundo ya he gozado, Los días de mi juventud hace tanto, ¡tanto!, que se desvanecieron, Abril y Mayo y Julio están lejanos, ¡Ya nada soy, ya nada me complace!

versprecht ihr mir, Ihr Wälder meiner Jugend, wenn ich komme, die Ruhe noch einmal wieder?

The melancholy of everything completed!

When I am all alone, I often, very often, say your name aloud…

You have no idea what a charming memory you are to me.

Quand on a été séparé de sa patrie, on comprend mieux encore combien elle vous est chère.

Aleshores, quan jèiem abraçats davant la finestra oberta al pendís d'oliveres (dues llavors nues dins un fruit que l'estiu ha badat violent, i que s'omple d'aire) no teníem records. Érem el record que tenim ara. Érem aquesta imatge. Els ídols de nosaltres, per la submisa fe de després.

Always. At every moment, asleep and awake, during the most sublime and most abject moments, Amaranta thought of Rebeca, because solitude had made a selection in her memory and had burned the dimming piles of nostalgic waste that life had accumulated in her heart, and had purified, magnified, and eternalized the others, the most bitter ones.

The adolescents of my generation, greedy for life, forgot in body and soul about their hopes for the future until reality taught them that tomorrow was not what they had dreamed, and they discovered nostalgia.

He was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past. But when he stood at the railing of the ship... only then did he understand to what extent he had been an easy vicitim to the charitible deceptions of nostalgia.

Todavia era demasiado joven para saber que la memoria del corazón elimina los malos recuerdos y magnifica los buenos, y que gracias a ese artificio logramos sobrellevar el pasado.

Let me stay here, he said. There was soap.

Arcadio found the formality of death rediculous. Death really did not matter to him but life did, and therefore the sensation he felt when they gave their decision was not a feeling of fear but of nostalgia.

La persistencia de su recuerdo le aumentaba la rabia. Cuando despertó pensando en él, al día siguiente del entierro, logró quitarselo de la memoria con un simple gesto de la voluntad. Pero la rabia volvía siempre, y muy pronto se dio cuenta que el deseo de olvidarlo era el más fuerte estímulo para recordarlo. Entonces se atrevió a evocar por primera vez, vencida por la nostalgia, los tiempos ilusorios de aquel amor irreal

Oak, granite, Lilies by the road, Remember me? I remember you. Clouds brushing Clover hills, Remember me? Sister, child, Grown tall, Remember me? I remember you.

But my last conscious thought was an image of Prince Char when he'd caught the bridle of Sir Stephan's horse. His face had been close to mine. Two curls had spilled onto his forehead. A few freckles dusted his nose, and his eyes said he was sorry for me to go.