Quotes About Nostalgia

It's typical for some who've been through combat to romanticize it

Gwen almost as long as I can remember. When I got

Resulta extraño añorar lo jamás tenido, aquello de lo que nunca ha formado parte. Resulta extraño tener una sensación elegíaca acerca de un pasado que en realidad nunca ha conocido

Resulta extraño añorar lo jamás tenido, aquello de lo que nunca ha formado parte. Resulta extraño tener una sensación elíaca acerca de un pasado que en realidad nunca ha conocido

Photographs is not the same as just name, is more living. Otherwise, why save photographs? (Marijana to Mr Rayment)

Hunde la cabeza en la camiseta del niño. ¿Es pura imaginación suya o la tela conserva aún el leve olor a canela de la piel del niño?

Tohr took a pull of his beer. "What the hell is this?" "When Harry Met Sally." Tohr lowered the longneck from his mouth. "What?" "Shut it. After this, we're going to watch an episode of Moonlighting. Then An Affair to Remember—the old-school one, not that stupidity with Warren Beatty. Then The Princess Bride—" Tohr hit the switch by his hip and straightened the chair up. "Okay. Right. Have fun with this—

His thumb went back and forth over the satin, as if he were rubbing her hip as he had when they'd been together, and he moved his leg over so that it was on top of the skirting. It wasn't the same, though. There was no body underneath, and the fabric smelled like lemons, not her skin. And he was, after all, alone in this room that was not theirs. "God, I miss you," he said in a voice that cracked. "Every night. Every day…

Memories were especially dear, when they were all you had left of a loved one to hold on to.

Every night I went into Hannah's room and sat with her stuff. The thing I couldn't get was how her clothes and her books and her drawings were still there, but she wasn't. It just didn't compute. Her room was a like a car without an engine, everything where it should be, except all it was was potential. None of it was going to get used again.

There was something about the people you grew up around, the ones you'd seen throughout your childhood, the folks you couldn't remember not knowing. Even if the past was a complicated mess, as you aged, you were just glad the sons of bitches were still on the planet. It gave you the illusion that life wasn't as fragile as it actually was--and on occasion, that was the only thing that got you through the night.

it was one of the frickin' Golden Girls:

The past is safe because it is indelible.

But then this one time, at band camp

encontrava-se rodeada por uma colecção de livros antigos, muitos dos quais abertos. A visão de todas aquelas páginas lembrava-lhe cães ansiosos deitados de costas à espera de festas na barriga.

There was something about the people you grew up around, the ones you'd seen throughout your childhood, the folks you couldn't remember not knowing.

Guardando il bel viso del suo migliore amico, Qhuinn ebbe la sensazione di conoscere da sempre quei capelli rossi, quegli occhi azzurri, quelle labbra, quella mascella. E fu proprio in virtù della loro lunga storia in comune che cercò qualcosa da dire, qualcosa in grado di riportarli al punto di partenza. Tutto ciò che gli venne in mente fu... Mi manchi. Mi manchi talmente tanto che sto male, ma non so come trovarti, anche se sei qui davanti a me.

He shook his head as he stared at the closed door. You never knew the last time you were seeing someone. You didn't know when the last argument happened, or the last time you had sex, or the last time you looked into their eyes and thanked God they were in your life. After they were gone? That was all you thought about. Day and night.

He pushed her jacket off her shoulders. It was warm in the room now, and she was comfortable in her sleeveless top. He skimmed his hands down her arms, and he drew her against him. I missed holding you. I m sure you haven t been lonely without me. He stopped and pulled her back. There hasn't been anyone since I was with you. Believe that. All I did after you left was play ball and brood a lot.

A tire swing?

It seems to me that it's usually impossible to get hold of another time. You look at a pair of high-button shoes, the leather dry and cracked, buttons missing, the cloth uppers nearly drained of color by the years, and it just isn't possible to get into the mind of some long-gone woman who once saw them new. How could they ever have been new and shining, something a woman might actually covet?

I dream of lost vocabularies that might express some of what we no longer can.

The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die?

I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all