Quotes About Nostalgia

He wished he was not always young again in his dreams, it made waking up so sad.

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.

You have sometimes thought of going back? Yes, I have, but only in a fantasy way.

The past is gone, it doesn't exist any more.

Yes of course I was in love with my own youth. Aunt Estelle? Not really. Who is one's first love?

He looked like some unidentified person in a nineteenth-century photograph.

It wis like auld times, but in a sense that only served tae remind us ay how much things hud changed.

I haven't felt that good since Archie Gemmill scored against Holland in 1978 -Mark Renton

When the patronising cunt left, ah missed him. He nearly took us oot ay masel. It wis like auld times, but in a sense, that only served tae remind us ay how much things hud changed. Something hud happened. Junk hud happened. Whether ah lived wi it, died wi it, or lived withoot it, ah knew that things could never be the same again.

the happiness and love that once lived here

Contigo lo son todas, colega», le replico, entrando en un juego muy viejo. «¿Te acuerdas de la chica de la casa okupa de Shepherd's Bush? Lorraine, de Leicester. Te partió el corazón. Te cuelgas demasiado, colega, eso es lo que te pasa.»

After Billy was born, they had moved to the top floor of an old

Past glories are poor feeding.

The age of the pulp magazine was the last in which youngsters, to get their primitive material, were forced to be literate.

On Earth, we are unmanned by our longing for a pastoral past that never really existed; and that, if it had existed, could never exist again...on the Moon, there is no past to long for or dream about. There is no direction but forward.

He turned to look at her, and she was smiling at him. It was Noÿs as she had been, and his own heart beating as it had used to.

There is a longing for a supposedly simple and virtuous past that is almost universal among the people of a complex and vicious society.

They (Medievalists) are soft, dreamy people who find life too hard for them here and get lost in an ideal world of the past that never really existed.

He also said, I suppose there are people who are so `lucky' that they are not touched by phantoms and are not troubled by fleeting memory and know not nostalgia and care not for the ache of the past and are spared the feather-hit of the sweet, sweet pain of the lost, and I am sorry for them-for to weep over what is gone is to have had something prove worth the weeping.

He was not young any longer. Life no longer stretched before him as a vast uncharted field, its horizon lost in the distance.

The only trouble is," said the Sister happily, "that every once in a while you have a very unusual one and you never forget it, but you never have it again either. I had one when I was nine—" Her expression suddenly lost its excitement and she said, "It's a good thing. It teaches you the evanescence of things of the world.

I tell you I know the type of people that become Medievalists. They're soft, dreamy people who find life too hard for them here and get lost in an ideal world of the past that never really existed.

He lives in the past. He is a dreamer of ancient times, or rather, of the myths of what ancient times used to be. Such men are harmless in themselves, but their queer lack of realism makes them fools for others.

Fifty years," I hackneyed, "is a long time." "Not when you're looking back at them," she said. "You wonder how they vanished so quickly.