Quotes About Nostalgia

Ah, this feels just like the old times... I still miss you and the others, you know, and life at school and those times when two or more of us would sit up talking far too late into the night. Which is not to say I would give up my present life to return there, but... Well, even happy choices involve some sacrifice. And most of us, I suppose, would like to both have our cake and eat it if only it were possible

this has been a birthday best forgotten." "Most birthdays are, milord," his man said agreeably

Home had always been a place to dream of.

But our good humour was restored when we saw Lord John Roxton waiting for us upon the platform, his tall, thin figure clad in a yellow tweed shooting-suit. His keen face, with those unforgettable eyes, so fierce and yet so humorous, flushed with pleasure at the sight of us. His ruddy hair was shot with grey, and the furrows upon his brow had been cut a little deeper by Time's chisel, but in all else he was the Lord John who had been our good comrade in the past.

De todos los fantasmas, los de nuestros antiguos amores son los más dolorosos.

Seeing him again after so long awakened something inside me. I was surprised to find myself feeling sad rather than joyful, as I would have imagined.

Even now that he is gone I have him still, in the richness of my memories. I've lived my life again just telling it to you.

He stood with his two frail hands on his cane and his eyes closed, and breathed in deeply the scent of the past. Sometimes, he sighed, I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see.

Chairman: Sometimes, he sighed, I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see.

Suppose that you and I were sitting in a quiet room overlooking a garden, chatting and sipping at our cups of green tea while we talked about something that had happened a long while ago, and I said to you, "That afternoon when I met so-and-so . . . was the very best afternoon of my life, and also the very worst afternoon.

I knew she was gone, and yet the very emptiness of the hall seemed to suggest something of her presence. Even now, as an older woman, I sometimes lift the brocade cover on the mirror of my makeup stand, and have the briefest flicker of a thought that I may find her there in the glass, smirking at me.

La belleza me sorprendió como una especie de dolorosa melancolía.

El aire ya no olía a cerrado. El pasado había desaparecido.

We must always keep something to remember those who have left us.

Willy: Remember those two beautiful elm trees out there? When I and Biff hung the swings between them? Linda: Yeah, like being a million miles from the city.

Your blanket is all torn because it's old." "It is not old," Jane said. "But it is old," Jane's mother said. "We bought it when you were born. And then we had to wash it lots of times. And we washed it and washed it, and now it is all worn out. Look, you have a nice new big blanket. You don't need that old blanket. That old blanket is like a rag now, darling.

WILLY: I was thinking of the Chevvy. Slight pause. Nineteen twenty-eight . . . when I had that red Chevvy— Breaks off. That funny? I coulda sworn I was driving that Chevvy today.

Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.

Sometimes we credit ourselves with a longing to be in some distant spot, whereas, in truth, we are only longing to have the time back again which we spent there---days when we were younger and fresher than we are now.

Smells, like music, hold memories. She breathed deep, and bottled it up for posterity.

When she looked at him now, she couldn't help thinking that the man he had become bore so little resemblance to the boy he had been. His smile was the only piece of baggage he had carried with him from boyhood into manhood.

There are things that can be forgotten. And things that cannot - that sit on dusty shelves like stuffed birds with baleful, sideways staring eyes.

It was raining when Rahel came back to Ayemenem. Slanting silver ropes slammed into loose earth, plowing it up like gunfire. The old house on the hill wore its steep, gabled roof pulled over its ears like a low hat.

It had been quiet in Estha's head until Rahel came. But with her she had brought the sound of passing trains, and the light and shade that falls on you if you have a window seat.