Quotes About Nostalgia

In 1904, 20 per cent of journeys were made by bicycle in London. I want to see a figure like that again. If you can't turn the clock back to 1904, what's the point of being a Conservative?

Inner child, what do you suggest? 'I WANT A TREEHOUSE!' Anything else to add? 'FARTY NOISE UNDER THE ARM!'

Most every day — if not every day — for the rest of your life, you will be reminded or think of this night. And I want to thank you in advance right now for the great memories it's going to be.

I live in New York and it's the greatest city, but sometimes I want to move to the place with the porch and the lemonade and the farm.

I wanted to see London the way old people want to see home before they die.

It's so easy to get caught up in this weird life. This isn't normal and I'm not singing for people that live my life. I'm singing to the life I used to have. The life I want to have again.

We haven't truly had a zeitgeisty, 'songs on the radio' show, since...I want to say "One Night in Bangkok" was the last musical theatre song that charted. That was so long ago.

During the summers the building was empty," she reminisced. "Everybody went away, to Long Island, or Westchester, or the Adirondacks, or the Jersey Shore. If you went to Long Island, the husbands didn't stay behind. The whole city would be empty in the summers. Now if people go away, it's just a weekend. Goodness me, what kind of a summer is that?

It was just beer, women and Spitfires, a bunch of little John Waynes running about the place.

When you think back to your first kiss, your hair is perfect and she was wearing a cool outfit. We remember it with restraint and we remember it with style. We remember it as idealistically as you can think.

All the world is sad and drearyEv'rywhere I roam,Oh! darkies, how my heart grows weary,Far from the old folks at home.

Oh! Susanna, oh, don't you cry for me,I've come from Alabama, with my banjo on my knee.

Way down upon the Swanee River,Far, far away,There's where my heart is turning ever;There's where the old folks stay.

To birth, to death, and that wondrous thing in between. And to auld lang syne.

These people you used to see every day, friends or acquaintances, after a while they become as distant as any stranger, people you suddenly recall late at night--you remember something they said or something silly that someone once did. For a few moments they completely occupy your mind; then you forget them again.

He thinks of that ocean house and wishes he were back in his former life or that one could take one moment and remain inside it like an egg inside its shell, instead of constantly being hurried into the future by good luck or bad.

Maybe this is how it happens after high school, right? Or even on the ramp up to high school being over. You just drift away, and then it gets easier not to call, and then you forget the number, and then you see your old friend in line for the movie or whatever and you let your eyes keep moving, because it's going to be awkward now.

High school isn't a very important place. When you're going you think it's a big deal, but when it's over nobody really thinks it was great unless they're beered up.

If you liked being a teenager, there's something really wrong with you.

The faintest waft is sometimes enough to induce feelings of hunger or anticipation, or to transport you back through time and space to a long-forgotten moment in your childhood. It can overwhelm you in an instant or simply tease you, creeping into your consciousness slowly and evaporating almost the moment it is detected.

If we could scrape away what time does to men, we would love every boy.

We tend to remember the seasons of our lives by the soundtrack of that season

I felt good that, although there was no future, there would always be a past.

When I reached the age of five, I was told I was adopted as a baby, at that time I was gun and holster mad, a bit of a lone ranger, as was the rage in those days. My parents, Tom and Brenda, told me they went to see all these special kids and they picked me out from them. Waiting for my reaction, I looked up at my parents and chimed, 'Did I have my guns on?