Quotes About Nostalgia

Part of him believes he's still on that trip, that everything since has been one giant hallucination, and that one day he'll snap out of it and find himself back on his couch in St. Louis, listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon.

I had never thought much of genealogy. A lot of wasted time collecting the names of the dead. Then stringing those names, like skulls upon a wire, into an entirely private and thus irrelevant narrative, lacking any historical significance. The narcissistic pastime of nostalgic bores.

Someone's past was happy in their shadow.

Clouds aren't as pretty as they used to be. That's a known fact.

What is a family, after all, except memories?–haphazard and precious as the contents of a catchall drawer in the kitchen.

If I try to summon back his face, the sound of his voice, and the sensation in my stomach like a key turning in a lock when he touched me, I lose everything.

Through writing, I have been looking back ever since, trying to recapture all that was left behind

I missed being a parent as much as a person crossing the desert misses water. I missed soccer games and family meals and coming in out of the snow after sledding, dancing in

The Kingdom of Summer In my mother's cellar there were realms of golden apple, rooms of purple beet, hallways of green bean leading to windows of strawberry and grape. In her cellar there were cider seas and pumpkin shores, mountains of tomatoes— pickle trees. When I walked down the steps and pulled on the light, I saw where she kept the Kingdom of Summer.

Antes de avanzar, pensó, volvió a descubrir, que el pasado no vale más que un sueño ajeno.

Qué rara es la memoria: nos permite recordar lo que no hemos vivido.

También ella sonreía, pero la suya era una sonrisa melancólica, la sonrisa de las cosas perdidas.

canciones de Gigliola Cinquetti, que tanto le gustaban a Marianella.

ya dormida la vi pasar una mano bajo la almohada como abrazándola, o aferrándose a ella, y sucedió de nuevo: la vi como fue de niña, no me cupo la menor duda de que en ese ademán estaba la niña que había sido, y la quise de alguna manera imprecisa y absurda

su cara era como una fiesta de la cual ya se han ido todos.

What we abusively name the past is no more than the bright but gauzy present of our memories,

quisiera que, viniendo despacio, como antes, desde la cocina, desde el patio, en la noche cítrica, una mano, materna o familiar, es decir, de dedos conocidos, en el viejo sentido, anterior a la explosión, a esta deriva sin dirección y sin bordes, encendiera, por fin, la luz, del cuarto sin lujo, austero, con, apenas, lo necesario para reconocer el honor y la constancia de lo que es, lo que es en su seguir siendo, mesa, jarra, botella, ventana y paraíso.

Cuando nos olvidamos es que hemos perdido, sin duda alguna, menos memoria que deseo.

Sharp nostalgia, infinite and terrible, for what I already possess.

El día que te fuiste entendí que no te volvería a ver. Ibas teñida de rojo por el sol de la tarde, por el crepúsculo ensangrentado del cielo; Sonreías. Dejabas atrás un pueblo del que muchas veces me dijiste: 'Lo quiero por ti; pero lo odio por todo lo demás, hasta por haber nacido en él'. Pensé: 'No regresará jamás; no volverá nunca.

There you'll find the place I love most in the world. The place where I grew thin from dreaming. My village, rising from the plain. Shaded with trees and leaves like a piggy bank filled with memories. You'll see why a person would want to live there forever. Dawn, morning, mid-day, night: all the same, except for the changes in the air. The air changes the color of things there. And life whirs by as quiet as a murmur...the pure murmuring of life.

El pasado siempre volvía, vivía en los recuerdos, en las pasiones mal tapadas por capas y capas de olvido.

Perhaps we should always say that instead of 'old'. How gone are you? I'm thirty years gone.

Under the greenwood tree, who something something me", tum-te-tum the weather,' Tom remarked. 'Shocking memory for poetry.