Quotes About Nostalgia

The most valuable things in a life are a man's memories. And they are priceless.

"Young men wish always to dream of what they have lost." "And old men?" "Of what they have not found."

One of these days I will be an old man in a rocking chair on a porch. Wouldn't it be nice to have my whole life there to read and kind of re-live it.

An old market had stood there until I'd been about six years old, when the authorities had renamed it the Olde Market, destroyed it, and built a new market devoted to selling T-shirts and other objects with pictures of the old market. Meanwhile, the people who had operated the little stalls in the old market had gone elsewhere and set up a thing on the edge of town that was now called the New Market even though it was actually the old market.

Morse code didn't leave a paper trail, or an email thread on the screen of your tablet. She would never be able to scroll back and reread the exchange she'd just had with Rufus.

When the gangplanks are drawn in from the stone edge of the Bund, they are cut off from a whole world that they'll never see again, a world where they were kings. Now they are Marines again.

had led him into the business of small-town marijuana dealing, which must have seemed dark and dangerous at the time, but that now, in these days of crystal meth, seemed as wholesome as running a lemonade stand.

There were, in other words, plenty of lovely things to discover at the time and to reminisce about later.

The opening strains of "Comfortably Numb.

He went back to the search box and typed "Eutropians." A memory from the early days of the Internet, the 1990s tech boom.

Forty-eight hours of intensive grandniece/great-uncle bonding had ensued. In that short time Sophia's apparatus of modern kiddom had permeated Richard's apartment. Even if she never again set foot in this place, he would be finding Cheerios, glitter, sticky handprints, and barrettes for the next twenty years.

the same kind of Diefenbachia that Grandmother Waterhouse used to have growing on the counter in her downstairs bathroom.

Why any one place should forever hold enchantment for the reason you are born there is a mystery. But like cats and birds we are pussy-footed and pigeon-toed and our footsteps lead toward home.… The Eskimo longs for his northern bleakness and his ice hut, the cowboy dreams of the wide open towns and prairies of the west, the old salt is looking out to sea Ã¢â'¬Â¦ and down in the hold of many ships are dead Chinamen's bones going home to China.

I want my brain to slide back into the slot it was meant to be in, rest there the way it did before the fall of last year, back when I was young, witty, and my teachers said I had incredible promise.

When I was a kid I read these books, the Redwall books, fantasy books about a bunch of warrior mice, and the mice had this war cry that I always thought was coo: 'Eulalia.' And like an idiot that's what I yelled off the Brooklyn Bridge: 'Eulaliaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!' And I could have died right then. And considering how things went, I really should have.

I used to like the foods that come in abstract shapes: chicken nuggets, Fruit Roll-Ups, hot dogs.

And she bangs her knee against my thigh. Awesome. A girl hasn't done that to me since like fourth grade.

The stories we are told as children do, undoubtedly, mark us for life. They are often stories of dark and terrible things, and we are usually told them just before the lights are turned out and we are left alone; but we love them. We love them when we first hear them, and even when we are grown, and think we have forgotten them entirely, they never lose their power over us.

Jamie Smart has gone home and Adrian sits on the curb at the edge of the field, the bike propped against a lamppost. He can see the back garden. He's drinking a can of Fanta. He's feeling pretty good. He's six years old. A van pulls up. The worried-looking driver gets out and jogs across the quiet road. He said, "Mate—what's your name?

My mum,' Thomas Kintry told him, 'when she gets really down, she churns over the past. All the things she thinks she did wrong, all the people she let down. There was this one Christmas when the turkey came out too dry; she still goes on about that bloody turkey, what a miserable Christmas day it was. And this is, like—1993 or something. But she still goes on about it. My nan was the same.

Food used to be so good. I used to love food. I haven't eaten food since I was thirteen years old...I haven't had a real piece of bread in thirty years. If I knew what was going to happen, I would have saved some rolls when I was a kid.

In the field, one quickly learns that everything that was funny at age ten is funny all over again.

They forget how much they used to love their own parents," she said, "when they were kids.

a veces tener memoria es una buena cosa, porque ahí está la historia de tu vida y sin ella no habría nada, pero otras veces tu memoria guarda cosas que preferirías no volver a saber nunca y, por mucho que intentes quitártelas de la cabeza, siempre vuelven.