Quotes About Nostalgia

Sometimes she pulled her mother's old college clothes out of the closet (pastel sweaters with moth holes, elbow gloves in every color, an aqua prom dress that—on Harriet—dragged a foot upon the ground).

I knew my mother's feet, her clothes, her two-tone black and white shoes - and long after I was sure of it I made myself stand in their midst, folded deep inside myself like a sick pigeon with its eyes closed.

With the striped umbrella and the pistachio ices?

I was sitting on her porch and said: You must be thirsty, would you like to come in? Portraits, miniatures, daguerreotypes, old Aunt This, old Uncle Thus and So. That spiral staircase coming down. And there I was—in my lifeboat. I'd found it. You had to pinch yourself in that house sometimes to remind yourself it wasn't 1909.

Over and over, I kept thinking I've got to go home and then, for the millionth time, I can't.

passed—Snoopy, Ronald McDonald

I was floating around up there like a feather, a trick from early childhood that was fading as I got older.

lo extraño era más bien descubrir en el presente un fragmento tan brillante del pasado vivo, dañado y erosionado pero no destruido.

when my cat died I had to go out and borrow all these Simon and Garfunkel records.

something about the place inspired a magnificent laziness I hadn't known since childhood.

strange to find that the present contained such a bright shard of the living past, damaged and eroded but not destroyed.

commonplace happiness that was lost when I lost her.

she really was older, not the glancing-eyed girl I had fallen in love with but no less beautiful for that; beautiful now in a way that less excited my senses that tore at my very heart

when you feel homesick, he said, just look up. because the moon is the same wherever you go

She really was older, not the glancing-eyed girl I had fallen in love with but no less beautiful for that; beautiful now in a way less excited my senses than tore at my very heart.

Even now I remember those pictures, like pictures in a storybook one loved as a child. Radiant meadows, mountains vaporous in the trembling distance; leaves ankle-deep on a gusty autumn road; bonfires and fogs in the valleys; cellos, dark windowpanes, snow.

And yet I thought of him almost every day. The Russian novels I had to read for school reminded me of him; Russian novels, and seven pillars of wisdom, and so too the Lower East Side—tattoo parlors and pierogi shops, pot in the air, old polish ladies swaying side to side with grocery bags and kids smoking in the doorways of bars along Second Avenue.

De algún modo el presente se había contraído convirtiéndose en un lugar más pequeño y mucho menos interesante. Tal vez era eso lo que ocurría cuando la gente se hacía mayor.

A world of ticking clocks and creaking floorboards.

They're not just recipes. They are family stories and memories.

The mossy marbles rest On lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.

The mossy marbles rest On lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. Yet, beyond sharing

Theodore) Roosevelt confessed early fascination with girls'stories such as Little Man and Little Women and An Old-Fashioned Girl.

or like an old friend one has known too well and doesn't want to see.