Quotes About Nostalgia

People always long for the good old days," Christopher said, his light eyes thoughtful. "We look at the past with rose-colored glasses.

a small House consisting only of him and my grandmother Victoria.

Christopher was right. We looked at the past with rose-colored glasses.

That's a lovely story," Sean said. "We should go back.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost convince myself it was Dad grilling outside rather than some werewolf with entitlement issues.

Men who loved you when you were twenty, and who continue to see you the way you looked then are impossible to replace.

No matter how hard they tried, they could never take all their memories with them: the best memories would remain here, between these thin walls.

Un po' più tardi andarono a coricarsi e, nel calore, del letto, assaporarono un amore che non era che l'ombra dell'antico amore, ma che, nutrito dai ricordi del passato, da un'appassionata volontà di oblio, talvolta rifioriva e prendeva vita.

La felicità assomiglia a delle vacanze in riva al mare in un'estate piovosa, dove solo l'ultima giornata è stata bella, e questo è sufficiente per rimpiangerle.

Thus the activity of preservation should be distinguished from the nostalgia accompanying fantasies of a lost home from which the subject is separated and to which he seeks to return. Preservation entails remembrance, which is quite different from nostalgia.

Nostalgic longing is always for an elsewhere. Remembrance is the affirmation of what brought us here.

To lose somebody is to lose not only their person but all those modes and manifestations into which their person has flowed outwards; so that in losing a beloved one may find so many things, pictures, poems, melodies, places lost too: Dante, Avignon, a song of Shakespeare's, the Cornish sea.

His heart ached in such a familiar way, and the very familiarity of it pained him.

I am just a past with no present.

What dangerous machines letters are. Perhaps it is as well that they are going out of fashion. A letter can be endlessly reread and reinterpreted, it stirs imagination and fantasy, it persists, it is red-hot evidence. It was a long time since I had received anything resembling a love letter.

Here memory was simply a cold cloud to be shuddered at.

What is more tormenting than a meeting after a long time, when all the words fall to the ground like dead things, and the spirit that should animate them floats disembodied in the air? We both felt its presence.

a meadow which David had known before the coming of the motorway, where he had searched for mushrooms in previous autumns, in lost quiet golden hazes.

He felt as if something had been completed and he would never see any of those people again.

I'm afraid you're all mixed up in my mind,' I said. 'I wonder where they are now –' 'Married.' She spoke it as if it were the name of a distant country.

To lose somebody is to lose not only their person but all those modes and manifestations into which their person has flowed outwards; so that in losing a beloved one may find so many things, pictures, poems, melodies, places lost too.

What larks we had, said James. When? When we were young. I could not recall any larks I had had with James. I poured out the wine and we sat in silence.

Well, everything's nicer when you can think about Christmas.

Year after year he wondered if he should go back and year after year felt it all recede from him past hope, past endeavour . . . He could not find his way back there.