Quotes About Nostalgia

He received a phone call, And memories of the past rose anew.

Memories are a doorway to the past, and the more one treasures the memories, the wider the door will open.

It was inevitable, of course, but somehow it didn't seem right to Alex that they would never remember the sound of Carly's laughter, or know how deeply she'd once loved them.

In another place, in another time, she would have felt the majesty of the beauty around her, but as she stood on the beach, she realized that she didn't feel anything at all. In a way, she felt as if she weren't really here, as if the whole thing was nothing but a dream.

Throughout it all, I loved her as much as I always had, and I found myself aching for those simpler times of the past. I knew what was happening, of course. As we were drifting apart, I was becoming more desperate to save what we once had shared; like a vicious circle, however, my desperation made us drift apart even further.

In profile, he could see both the young woman she was becoming and the little girl he remembered.

Young Noah: [humming] Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum. Young Allie: [laughing] You're a terrible singer. Young Noah: I know. Young Allie: [laying her head on his shoulder] But I like this song. [they continue dancing in the street to I'll Be Seeing You]

The memories of the day played in his mind, but this time, his thoughts were of his daughter and the way she'd clung to Katie, her little face buried in Katie's neck. The last time he'd seen that, he reflected, was when Carly had been alive.

I think I loved you more that summer than I ever loved anyone.

Allie would love what you've done, he remarked. She was always a softie when it came to things like this. I folded my hands in my lap. I wish she could be there this weekend. Noah glanced at the stack of letters. I knew he was imagining Allie, and for a brief moment, he looked strangely younger. So do I, he said.

Can I have a Happy Meal? don't you think you're getting a little old for that? I'm only seven, Dad.

Remembering those days always aroused a mixture of emotions in her—something akin to, but not quite, nostalgia. Nostalgia was often romanticized; with these memories, there was no reason to make them any more romantic than they already were. Nor did she share these memories with others. They were hers, and over the years, she'd come to view them as a sort of museum exhibit, one in which she was both the curator and the only patron.

My point is that first loves always make sense because you don't know any better. Everything is a first and any warning bells are drowned out by the sheer novelty of it all.

I finished your song, she said. Our last song.

And some time after midnight on that clear October evening, Noah was overcome with longing. And if anyone had seen him, they would have seen what looked like an old man, someone who'd aged a lifetime in just a couple of hours. Someone bent over in his rocker with his face in his hands and tears in his eyes. He didn't know how to stop them.

Sometimes, when you remember the things you used to do, it makes you wince.

I can remember every moment we were together, and in each of them there was something wonderful. I can't really pick any one time that meant more than any other. The entire summer was perfect, the kind of summer everyone should have. How could I pick one moment over another?

Some might dispute the facts, but memories aren't always about facts.

Maybe the older people get, the more important the past becomes? Because there's less future ahead?

We spend so much time making up for things we failed to say, she mused. If only, she began for the thousandth time, the images of those days beginning to flash behind her eyes like a slide show she was powerless to stop

I relive that year often in my mind, bringing it back to life, and I realize that when I do, I always feel a strange combination of sadness and joy. There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away, but I have the feeling that if I did, the joy would be gone as well. So I take the memories as they come, accepting them all, letting them guide me whenever I can. This happens more often than I let on.

As the warm air blew in the car, simple snapshots of the life they'd lived together surfaced in his mind; but as always, those images led inexorably to their final day together.

Whenever I'm in Glasgow I go and stand outside the front of the house I grew up in, which is in Mount Vernon.

Everything I ever needed came out of a radio and a dashboard. My Mount Rushmore of what was cool came out of a radio - Trisha Yearwood, Patty Loveless, Mark Chesnutt.