Quotes About Nostalgia

I want to remember it all, the good times and the bad times, the late nights, the boozing, the dancing into dawns, and all the great and not-so-great people I met and loved in those years…

He always called me Daughter. It was to distinguish me from his sister Ava. I loved being called Daughter. It sounded so possessive, and to be possessed when you are a child is just a wonderful feeling. It makes you feel safe. It makes you feel loved.

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness--and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark.

Then she remembered.

and he said her name to fill the space of five years.

What kind of a tragedy did you have in your childhood? Why, none at all. I had a wonderful childhood. Free and peaceful and not bothered too much by anybody. Well, yes, I did feel bored very often. But I'm used to that.

El lector del conjunto de esta obra descubrirá más fácilmente por sí mismo los lazos fortísimos que además le unen al sistema comunista mundial, y a su jefe de filas soviético. Muchos fenómenos que han llamado nuestra atención (la «página en blanco», esa nostalgia del reinicio absoluto, de la tabla rasa; el culto y la manipulación de la juventud) pueden encontrarse fácilmente bajo otros cielos.

For me, the best part of visiting Aunt Selma, Uncle Nat and Cousin Lewis was the voyage. We went by trolley, of course. At that time, Brooklyn was the Streetcar Capital of the World.  (The Brooklyn Dodgers baseball team got its name because Brooklynites spent half their lives dodging trolleys. The team's full name was Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers, later shortened to Dodgers for tightened newspaper-headline purposes.)

A journey is a dismal thing when there can be no homecoming.

I was Mowgli, of course, and Winnetou, and Captain Nemo.

There was something about seeing my daughter riding her little Radio Flyer tricycle for the first time that made me want to stuff her back in my womb and refuse to let her ever leave the safety of my body again—but not before filling an entire digital memory card with pictures.

Tutti abbiamo il nostro momento d'oro. E dopo, è bello ricordarlo. Se fosse sempre il nostro momento d'oro non ce ne accorgeremmo neanche». «Quand'è stato il tuo momento d'oro?» mi chiede Mara. Ci penso un po' su e poi rispondo: «Una volta ho vinto un pesce rosso al Luna Park». Segue un rispettoso silenzio.

Dove sono finiti gli yes dogs? e gli Hula-hoop? E le tartarughe Ninja? E la carta moschicida? E la democrazia?

Un dolore che non sentiva da anni lo ferì, una fitta allo stomaco, un'immagine di lei nella grotta, il ricordo del primo sguardo, l'odore dei suoi capelli. Tutto divenne prezioso e lontano, come in una fotografia.

She liked Victorian novels. They were the only kind of novel you could read while eating an apple.

In 1994, several students and I interviewed a ninety-five-year-old woman for an oral history project. She told us that as a teenager she went to the movies to learn the right way to kiss, and after the movie she and her boyfriend would drive to the local lovers' lane to try out the new techniques. Overhearing, the woman sitting next to her in the nursing home lounge exclaimed: "Oh, my goodness, I always thought I was so bad for doing that!

Our most powerful visions of traditional families derive from images that are still delivered to our homes in countless reruns of 1950s television sitcoms.

the last little orb winks behind our mountain Venus peeking one eye over her shoulder I boil water, you dice mushrooms for the sauce remember all the poems we wrote when we were young, I say always about that thin crack between day and night I write you another one right there in the kitchen for old times sake and butter melts on the table old witches know what that means out in the middle of nowhere

extras, in case you want to send some." "Irma," M.J. said. "Who am I going to write a postcard to? You're the

I hated that I let him touch my sweat, that he knew how I kissed. I wanted to collect my things from him, but the things were only moments.

It was not the first time she'd been kissed, yet it was.

They actually have working gasoline cars, and motels and roadside diners. They even have halls where they pump in toxic fumes so you can smell how it was when we were kids.

But, yeah, it was a totally weird place, looking back. But the right kind of weird. Good weird. The nuns had a lot of freedom. We read Carl Sagan before the Old Testament.

Every human is allowed to be sentimental about a spring day in New York. It's our birthright.