Quotes About Nostalgia

He was wearing a blue cotton shirt that was bleached and faded to the colour of a forget-me-not dried by the sun, and old grey flannel trousers.

My childhood in Corfu shaped my life. If I had the craft of Merlin, I would give every child the gift of my childhood.

Luisa Santiaga Márquez Iguarán de García had given birth to three more children since that time and this was her first return to Aracataca since her husband, Gabriel Eligio García, took her away to live in Barranquilla, leaving little "Gabito" in the care of his maternal grandparents,

Dipping into the pitcher of the past, his father often said, can only sour the cup of the present.

These memories of happiness are fleeting things, reflections in a stream, glimpsed all broken for a second and then swept away in the current of grief that is our life now. I can't say that I ever feel what it felt like then, when I was happy. But sometimes something will touch the place where that feeling was, a touch as slight and swift as the brush of a moth's wing in the dark.

Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in. Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me; Say I'm growing old, but add Jenny kissed me.

Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child.

As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known, So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till in shadowy design I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.

In memory, everything seems to happen to music.

Living in the past has one thing in its favour - it's cheaper.

For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power to recall memories and it is a pity that we use it so little.

That which is bitter to endure may be sweet to remember.

Memory is the thing you forget with.

God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.

Don't you remember sweet Alice Ben Bolt? Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown; Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembl'd with fear at your frown!

English I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away!

We must always have old memories and young hopes.

All to myself I think of you, Think of the things we used to do, Think of the things we used to say, Think of each happy bygone day, Sometimes I sigh, and sometimes I smile, But I keep each olden, golden while All to myself.

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there.

Most men are secretly still mad at their mothers for throwing away their comic books. They would be valuable now.

By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, Remembering thee.

The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled.

A child on a farm sees a plane fly overhead and dreams of a faraway place. A traveler on the plane sees the farmhouse and dreams of home.

Time-our youth-it never really goes, does it? It is all held in our minds.