Quotes About Nostalgia

Ä°nsan yaÅŸam?n?n 'doÄŸaçlamas?n?', hiçbir ÅŸey bitmemiÅŸ bir ezgi kadar iyi anlatamaz. Ya da eski bir adres defteri kadar.

How can the dead be truly dead when they are still walking in my heart?

Have you ever seen any people that afterward you remembered more like a feeling than a picture?

Aber die Erinnerung kommt nie von vorne auf einen zu – sie kommt seitlich um die Ecke.

Sometimes I can be walking down the street, or riding a bus, and suddenly I see somebody who remind me of somebody I know back home, and I close my eyes and find myself thinking of the sea, or the taste of grafted mango, or the smell of saltfish frying, and then I come back to myself and open my eyes and realise where I am.

A ghost from her past, part of a world to which she no longer belonged but had never stopped missing.

The years of her life tumbled out onto the floor like marbles that she would never be able to gather up again in one bowl. The years of her life had been a made puzzle that one day gets unmade, the pieces all scattered.

She knew for certain there were all kinds of people who craved their youth, who would run like gazelles toward that fishhook of time, peeling off the years like old imagined skins.

looking off at the past as though it were a place one might still get to

No matter how many women I've kissed over the years, your lips are the ones that still haunt me.

There were hundreds of them spread across the floor, each telling its own tale of triumph or sadness, each letter representing a phase in her life. She had kept them all.

It's not easy remembering the good times.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with returning to the house you grew up in every now and again. It's good for the soul.

When it comes to my memory there are three categories: things I want to forget, things I can't forget, and things I'd forgotten until I remember them.

It was the most perfect moment in my life. It was the last perfect moment in my life.

I never wanted anything new; from the age of ten, I was convinced that you couldn't replace what was lost. I insisted on things having to be found.

Like Rosaleen and Arthur's house, this had the feel of generations of people who had lived there before, families that had grown up, run and shouted through the hallways, broken things, grown things, fallen in love. Instead of the occupants owning the house, the house owned a part of each of them.

I mourned for a life that I'd lost.

She wished all her memories could be of the good times, but the bad times kept coming back to haunt her.

and a suitcase of memories.

What was it, I wondered, that we had then that we could revive now?

Home is not a place. It is a feeling.

When it comes to my memory there are three categories; things I want to forget, things I can't forget, and things I'd forgot I'd forgotten until I remember them.

I can't remember how long it's been since I spent Christmas in Dublin. Long enough, once again. But soon enough Prince Moonbeam and Princess Buttercup shall be reunited.