Quotes About Nostalgia

You may say that, now Dawes has gone. You didn't think our locks so hard—nor our matrons, perhaps—when they kept her neat and close, for you to gaze at!

She wished for a moment that they were all children again. It still seemed extraordinary to her, that everything had turned out the way it had.

shall grow dry and pale and paper-thin—like a leaf, pressed tight inside the pages of a dreary black book and then forgotten.

I have seemed to see our kisses there sometimes, I've seen them hanging in the curtains

I shivered again, remembering. I put the tip of one finger to my tongue. It tasted sharp—like vinegar, like blood. Like money.

I suppose the things that you always take for granted, that you don't even notice, are what you miss the most.

On one of the shores the cuckoo was counting my years.

When I finish something, I generally put it on the shelf, and I very seldom look at it unless somebody mentions it to me, and then I open the book, and I read it, and I say, "Did I do that?"

Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.

as i said her nostrils flared like a white lion, i blinked and she was gone. what one imagines. i dream moldy words. at times she yawned, as i said that, and her nostrils flared most beautifully.

There was the smell of old books, a smell that has a way of making all libraries seem the same. Some say that smell is asbestos.

Even as a kid, if I would come across something cool in the record store, that would be how I found out about bands. It's kind of the same way these days. In a way even less because there are no record stores to go to anymore.

Q: What is the most common remark made by old people in antique stores? A: "I remember these.

More than anything, it was the blue dolphins that took me back home.

I find it hard not to think of our home as a chrysalis from which the butterfly has flown. I miss my daughter. The rug bristles with the absence of her dancing feet. The windows glint with the history of her looking. Water rings on the sills recall where her teacup should be. The air lacks a sweet buzz.

All I wanted was what I'd already had. That exultation, that love. It was my one real home; I was a visitor everywhere else.

I never felt so large and important as I did when being in love was everything. I saw you walking a foot above the earth and I remembered that was where I used to walk.

Yet all of his memories were fading like old photographs.

After a week, it's better. I miss her. I mourn her. But some peace has returned. She had been so unattainable - so young, so much a citizen of a different era - that it is hard to feel fully deprived.

It all came back to me last night, stirredBy the sootfall of your things at bedtime,Your head-down, tail-up hunt in a bottom drawerFor the black plunge-line nightdress.

I want away to the house of death, to my father under the low, clay roof.

The Beatles mean so much to so many people, you know? Everybody has at least one song of The Beatles that's one of their favorite songs of all time.

Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions.

My memories are not of time but of times.