Quotes About Nostalgia

if the world were a museum of memories, a collection of places she'd outgrown.

the world she'd been raised to live in no longer existed.

and you form a map in your heart of all the places that make you so happy

People born in New Orleans always go back

Sometimes one gets the feeling that life still thinks it's living in Paris in the '30s.

I'll bet I'm as old as you are. I'm older than Sanskrit. Well, I was waitress at the Last Supper. I'm so old I remember when McDonald's had only sold a hundred burgers. You win.

Every daydream that involves the past sports in its hatband a ticket to the grave.

Sentimental memories were like sugar-water icicles.

They've built their nests in the chimneys of my heart: those swallows that you lost.

Sometimes one gets the idea that life thinks it's still living in Paris in the thirties.

Under an orchard tree, dropping with cherries, cowgirls lay in the shade. They fed each other fruit. Dark juice dribbled into dimples. Cherry meat stained smiles and nostrils.

I do, however, happen to possess a pretty good memory and can at a moments notice name the lineup of the 1947 Brooklyn Dodgers and all but one or two of my ex-wives.

It was encouraging that he would mention a contemporary female, for Pan had begun to live in his memories, an unhealthy symptom in anyone, suggesting as it does that life has peaked. Every daydream that involves the past sports in its hatband a ticket to the grave.

taught me to fish in the little lagoon using a bent pin and a piece of bread. Gerry

GUIL And a syllogism: One, he has never known anything like it. Two, he has never known anything to write home about. Three, it is nothing to write home about. . . . Home . . . What's the first thing you remember? ROS Oh, let's see . . . The first thing that comes into my head, you mean? GUIL No—the first thing you remember. ROS Ah. (Pause.) No, it's no good, it's gone. It was a long time ago.

E quando l'emigrazione finisce, quando torni alla casa da cui te n'eri andata, pensi di aver chiuso il cerchio, ma visitando il museo ti rendi conto che il tuo è stato un viaggio di andata, di sola andata. Dall'esilio nessuno ritorna. Quello che hai abbandonato ti abbandona».

It is sheer good fortune to miss somebody long before they leave you.

But her brain was not interested in the future. Loaded with the past and hungry for more, it left her no room to imagine, let alone plan for, the next day.

She herself was no longer a child. So she became, and her process of becoming was like most of ours: she developed a hatred for things that mystified or obstructed her; acquired virtues that were easy to maintain; assigned herself a role in the scheme of things; and harked back to simpler times for gratification.

If a house burns down, it's gone, but the place—the picture of it—stays, and not just in my rememory, but out there, in the world.

Like the others, they were country people, but how soon country people forget. When they fall in love with a city, it is for forever, and it is like forever.

All that time, all that time, I thought I was missing Jude." And the loss pressed down on her chest and came up into her throat. "We was girls together," she said as though explaining something. "O Lord, Sula," she cried, "girl, girl, girlgirlgirl." It was a fine cry—loud and long—but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.

You always end up back where you started: hungry for the one thing everybody loses – young loving.

How come everybody run off from Sweet Home can't stop talking about it? Look like if it was so sweet you would have stayed. Girl who you talking to? Paul D laughed. True, true. She's right, Sethe. It wasn't sweet and it sure wasn't home. He shook his head. But it's where we were, said Sethe. All together. Comes back whether we want it to or not.