Quotes About Nostalgia

In the summer of 1988, my father took me up to look at the remains of our home, the dream house that he'd built. It was my first time since our family left four years earlier. Political and obscene graffiti covered the half-torn walls. There was no ceiling and surprisingly no floor: the parquet, the stone, the marble, all looted.

The walls of our upstairs hallway testify that we once had photogenic children. There are rows of framed pictures that show them playing baseball, basketball, holding a toad, and smiling in the sunlight at their eager parents. Everything is orderly and bright.

I was 16 before I met another passionate collector. One summer, I visited England; a new friend took me calling on his dotty, brilliant old aunt. She occupied a quaint house in Kent. Its walls were lined with glass-fronted cases full of what? Ancient shoe buckles.

If you came to my house you would not think an ex-footballer lived there. I've got nothing on the walls or the shelves from my time in the game.

It's no surprise that whether by blocking visas or building walls, there are parts of the country desperate to hang on to a vision of the United States that is rapidly disappearing from their TV screens as well as their neighborhoods.

I don't even have any of my gold records on my walls at home. They're all in storage.

All families had their special Christmas food. Ours was called Dutch Bread, made from a dough halfway between bread and cake, stuffed with citron and every sort of nut from the farm - hazel, black walnut, hickory, butternut.

My mother played the piano and my father the violin, I can remember my dad teaching me how to waltz; I had my feet on his, my mother playing the piano, and my husband will tell you the lessons weren't very successful.

If I'm riding my bike I just replay the same scenarios over and over in my head, like I haven't had a new mental adventure since high school. So that's what I like about books on tape, so my mind can't wander anywhere.

Very often, as I wander through life, I'll get that old feeling that I've come back from the future, and I'm living in the past. And it's a really horrible feeling.

Is there something we have forgotten? Some precious thing we have lost, wandering in strange lands?

In the course of transferring all my CDs to my iPod, I have found myself wandering the musical hallways of my past and reacquainting myself with music I haven't listened to in years.

I played music and sang from my earliest memories. The first pictures of me show me wandering around with a guitar that was larger than I was, and it became almost second nature to me.

I love wandering around the vintage shops.

New York was scary, coming from the Midwest. At first, I thought I'd come in all cocky, like, 'I'm gonna bring this town to its knees!' After about a month, I was like, 'I wanna go home.'

That's where it all started for me, in clubs and bars, and I don't ever wanna outgrow that.

I love Whitney Houston. I absolutely love her song, 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody.'

If I hear one more tailgate in the moonlight, Daisy Dukes song, I wanna throw up.

If you wanna see me in full '80s glory, I did one season of 'Halt and Catch Fire.'

Lenny Kravitz is someone I wanna work with. But Prince for sure. He's someone I've loved ever since I was in High School.

I actually wanna go back to the Philippines, not the old house that I used to live in but I would want to visit the Philippines.

Nostalgia is one thing. It's great to go and play the old songs. People know them and appreciate them. You got to give them what they want to hear.

The 'Road Rules' thing was just something that happened. It was never like when I was little I said, 'I want to be on a reality show when I grow up.' They didn't even have them then, you know?

I want to remind the new generation about the power of old school romance.