Quotes About Nostalgia

Her clearest memory of her father was a feel and a smell: the bristle of his cheek against hers as he lifted her up, and the tingle of Old Spice in her nostrils.

For the rest of her life, this would be what Marilyn thought of first when she thought of her mother. Her mother, who had never left her hometown eighty miles from Charlottesville, who always wore gloves outside the house, and who never, in all the years Marilyn could remember, sent her to school without a hot breakfast

She smelled, Mia thought suddenly, of home, as if home had never been a place, but had always been this little person whom she'd carried alongside her.

She'll pause over a peppermint, still twisted in cellophane, and wonder if it's significant, if it had meant something to Lydia, if it was just overlooked and discarded. She knows she'll find no answers. For now, she watches the figure in the bed, and her eyes fill with tears. It's enough.

Vintage." Lexie sighed and set upon the rack with reverence.

At the sight of her on the phone, a lightness crossed his face, like clouds shifting after strong wind. She saw him as he must have looked when he was young, long before she had been born: boyishly hopeful, possibilities turning his eyes into stars.

Dave Matthews Band was dope; Bryan Adams was jake. Getting to third base was dope; being grounded was jake. After that, he'd stayed upstairs when Tim came over, and was meanly glad when he and Trip began to drift apart. Now here was Tim calling Moody's name—his

This cookbook, Lydia knew, was her mother's favorite book, and she leafed through it with the adoration of a devotee touching a Bible.

she would grow up to be, and you saw them all simultaneously, like a 3-D image. It made your head spin. It was a place you could take refuge, if you knew how to get in. And each time you left it, each time your child passed out of your sight, you feared you might never be able to return to that place again.

What a job, clearing the homes of the dead, piling whole lives into garbage bins and lugging them to the curb.

It struck her then, as if someone had said it aloud: her mother was dead, and the only thing worth remembering about her, in the end, was that she had cooked. Marilyn thought uneasily of her own life, of hours spent making breakfasts, serving dinners, packing lunches into neat paper bags.

As he walks, a smattering of memories flare at each step, small bright stones lighting a path through the forest. There is the

Behind them, empty bookshelves. Bird has never seen books on them, but there they stand, fossils of a long-gone era.

He found himself daydreaming back to his own teenage years in Hong Kong, sneaking into the botanical gardens with Betsy Choy, those dreamlike afternoons he had never told anyone about, and had not remembered to relive, for many years. The young are always the same, always and everywhere, he thought, and he shifted the car into gear and drove on.

He has almost forgotten what it felt like. To touch her. To be forgiven even just this much

The way he hadn't even glanced at them, as if he were focused on something far-off on the horizon or deep, deep in the past.

On their old street, each house is a different drab shade: tan, dirty cream, the washed-out gray of tattered laundry: as if all the color has leached away since his childhood. Slope shouldered, listing slightly to one side, they resemble old ladies, their clothing grown shabby and loose.

Once upon a time. Once upon a time there was—a boy who loved cats.

That evening, that sureness, feels ancient now, like something grown small with the distance of years.

Ac? haf?zay? çatlat?yor. Ve buharla??yor hat?ralar.

Bizim için de?erli an?lar ta??yan yerlerde ayak izlerimiz niye silinir? Niye kalmaz?

Çünkü burada,bu kavaklar?n dibinde,büyüleyici bir cam k?r??? gibi kald? çocuklu?um...

Sevdi?imiz insanlar?n izleri neden bir yerde sürekli kalmazlar,neden onlar? her arad???m?zda bulamay?z? Bugün Duy?en'le birlikte indi?imiz o keçi yolunu bulsam kapan?r,izleri öperim.

But by the time I was 40, everything was winding down. It started after the war. On the plus side, there was more more products and technology. But for me the nightlife was winding down, the glamour, the fun.