Quotes About Nostalgia

I loved their home. Everything smelled older, worn but safe; the food aroma had baked itself into the furniture.

Parlare con lui m'infondeva una piacevole sensazione di familiarità, come accade con certi personaggi secondari della nostra infanzia: il gestore del negozio di fumetti, il venditore di caramelle... nonostante il tempo trascorso questi individui sono incapaci di considerarci come gli strani adulti che siamo diventati, e continuano invece a guardarci come i bambini che non abbiamo mai smesso di essere.

It was as if rather than being there in that moment, I was somewhere else, wishing I could be there. . . . The strange reverse-nostalgia itched at me every time I stepped from the boat to the stilt house dock, and it was several minutes before I could slough it off and relax. I think as much as anything else it was a weighty sense of gratitude, as well as the foreknowledge that whatever this was--this occupation, this friendship, this parallel life--it would not last forever.

You know," she said dreamily, "I can remember every man I ever fucked by the way he liked to do it. Not the way I liked to do it.

sentimentality being an emotion that for me usually attends later in the night.

The trees have a look of finding themselves in the wrong place, perhaps because they remember the river moving muddily behind the apple trees.

Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena.

Katniss. I remember about the bread.

You and me Haymitch.Very cozy.Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights sitting around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tale. -Peeta Mellark

She's really gone, then. The little girl with the back of her shirt sticking out like a duck tail,

What happens when we get back? I don't know. I guess we try and forget. I don't want to forget.

I miss home badly sometimes. But then I remember there's nothing left to miss anymore. I feel safer here.

Then Octavia drops to her knees, rubs the hem of a skirt against her cheek, and burst into tears. "It's been so long," she gasps, "since I've seen anything pretty.

I remember the first time I saw you. Your hair was in two braids instead of one. I remember when you sang in the music assembly and the teacher said "who knows the valley song?" and your hand shot straight up. After that, I watched you going home everyday. Everyday

I sit on the rock where Cressida filmed us, but it's too wide without his body beside me. Several times I close my eyes and count to ten, thinking that when I open them, he will have materialized without a sound as he so often did. I have to remind myself that Gale's in 2 with a fancy job, probably kissing another pair of lips.

You know what I miss? More than anything? Coffee. -- Plutarch Heavensbee

I keep hoping that as time passes by, we'll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it's futile. There's no going back.

All the times these arms were my only refuge from the world. Perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in my memory, and now gone forever.

He wanted to stay there forever, letting her soothe him, pretending he was just a kid and his mom could make everything okay.

I find myself focusing up at the sky — the only roof left — because too many memories are drowning me.

Smells like home.

I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena. To make myself put a name to the thing I've lost. But what's the use? It's gone. He's gone. Whatever existed between us is gone.

My mother was beautiful once too. Or so they tell me. -Katniss

Watching the bright pages of his picture books — the very ones he'd pored over with his mother — reduced to ashes had never failed to bring him to tears. But better off sad than dead.