Quotes About Nostalgia

You can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back.

I don't know what it is about food your mother makes for you, especially when it's something that anyone can make - pancakes, meat loaf, tuna salad - but it carries a certain taste of memory.

I think what you notice most when you haven't been home in a while is how much the trees have grown around your memories.

A man who can take anything will find most things unsatisfying. And a man without memories is just a shell.

sometimes what you miss the most is the way a loved one made you feel about yourself.

What is it about childhood that never lets you go, even when you're so wrecked it's hard to believe you ever were a child?

It's like going back to being a child again. Someone to bathe you. Someone to lift you. Someone to wipe you. We all know how to be a child. It's inside all of us. For me, It's just remembering how to enjoy it.

For many of us, the curtain had just come down on childhood.

You don't miss things. You miss people.

By now, the morning sun was just over the horizon and it came at me like a sidearm pitch between the houses of my old neighborhood. I shielded my eyes. This being early October, there were already piles of leaves pushed against the curb—more leaves than I remembered from my autumns here—andless open space in the sky. I think what you notice most when you haven't been home in a while is how much the trees have grown around your memories.

Once, lovers on faraway shores sat by candlelight and dipped ink to parchment, writing words that could not be erased. They took an evening to compose their thoughts, maybe the next evening as well.

You're never in love with anyone the way you are when you're eighteen

I didn't want to forget him. Maybe I didn't want him to forget me.

What would you give to remember everything? I have this power. I absorb your memories; when you hear me, you relive them. A first dance. A wedding. The song that played when you got the big news. No other talent gives your

tapes, like photographs and videos, are [nothing more than] a desperate attempt to steal something from death's suitcase.

Once, lovers on faraway shores sat by candlelight and dipped ink to parchment, writing words that could not be erased. They took an evening to compose their thoughts, maybe the next evening as well. When they mailed the letter, they wrote a name, a street, a city, a country and they melted wax and sealed the envelope with a signet ring. Sarah had never known a world like that. Speed now trumped the quality of words. A fast send was more important.

You're never in love with anyone the way you are when you're eighteen, on a beach, at night, with your shoes off. I still can't believe he's gone.

First loves often remain in the heart, like plants that cannot grow in sunlight.

Once, when Giselle was alive, he thought about the future. Now he only thought about the past.

Going back to something is harder than you think. I don't suppose I could have broken my mother's heart any more if I tried.

Please make it yesterday, when Papa came home.

But I had never seen her that way. I had never known her as Pauline, the name he parents had given her, or as Posey, the name her friends had given her; only as Mom, the name I had given her. I could only see her carrying dinner to the table with kitchen mitts, or carpooling us to the bowling alley.

As usual, he saves his wife's for last. He leans on the cane and he looks at the headstone and he thinks about many things. Taffy. He thinks about taffy. He thinks it would take his teeth out now, but he would eat it anyhow, if it meant eating it with her.

What happened to me? I asked myself. Morris's high, smoky voice took me back to my university years, when I thought rich people were evil, a shirt and tie were prison clothes, and life without freedom to get up and go - motorcycle beneath you, breeze in your face, down the streets of Paris, into the mountains of Tibet - was not a good life at all. What happened to me?