Quotes About Nostalgia

She did think of him sometimes. Lying alone in a hospital bed at 2:00 a.m., or during bouts of writer's block. He'd appear on the fringes of her thoughts—no face, just a feeling. His warm, minty-vanilla scent. The rough softness of his skin, like velvet caressed against the grain.

Over the years, during lazy daydreams, she'd sometimes allowed herself to fantasize about running into him. But in her thoughts, they'd still been kids. She couldn't imagine them relating to each other as adults. Whatever Shane sparked in her, she'd thought she'd outgrown. But they weren't who they used to be. They were better.

I just keep waiting for it not to hurt so bad. Every time I meet a woman, I want her to be you. And these sweet, pretty, smart girls fail so miserably. There's nothing wrong with them; they're just not you. You know that 'other half' people spend their life looking for? I already found her. She's somewhere watching Inside the Actor's Studio and eating yellow Skittles without me. I know who she is. But I can't have her.

The whole afternoon was delicious—so much so that Shane was already nostalgic for it before it had even ended.

Lizette always wore White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor, and Genevieve found the scent overwhelmingly glamorous but also soothing. That was her mom in a nutshell. White Diamonds.

I don't know why they call it life, it's just a moment with memories.

I would have remembered the good stuff. Nobody ever remembers the good stuff.

memories are the patches that make up the quilt of our emotions. A beautiful way to put it, but wrong. If that were true, then memories would blanket us, they would keep us warm. My memories were chilling me to the bone.

How does that goddamn cliché go? If I'd known then what I know now. Or maybe I should have heeded the opposite warning. Maybe I should have delved a little deeper into then back when I was wandering aimlessly around now.

It was 1984. That year, my true love was John Taylor from Duran Duran.

Desperately wanting to communicate with someone who no longer exists is essentially a lesson in gravity. No matter how hard you try to overcome it, it will always pull you down.

But everyone falls in love with Holden Caulfield when they're sixteen. They read The Catcher in the Rye and don't feel so alone. The problem is, they get over it. They forget that grief. Or they bury it. I never could.

I wanted to freeze the moment. Freeze it and jump inside of it and stay there until it melted into the warm, swishy liquid of happy memories.

Everything's computerized these days," he wheezed, "but I'm a sucker for hard copies. There's something about the physical feeling of paper in your hand that helps you to think, right? Or maybe that's just me.

The world is your oyster when you are successful. That was when I was getting scripts. I was planning for this. I like this business. Parts of it I love, and I didn't want it to just end. The further you get away from your success, the less your phone rings. The next thing you know, it's 20 years later and you're in a mall going, "Remember when Al and I used to do something like this..."

When I was growing up, Dr. Seuss was really my favorite. There was something about the lyrical nature and the simplicity of his work that really hit me.

Certain things leave you in your life and certain things stay with you. And that's why we're all interested in movies- those ones that make you feel, you still think about. Because it gave you such an emotional response, it's actually part of your emotional make-up, in a way.

An adventure is never an adventure when it happens. An adventure is simply physical and emotional discomfort recollected in tranquility.

These rare gray afternoons evoke a sweet, childhood melancholy in my soul, like when it rained in kindergarten and we had to stay inside and do crafts with library paste and pipe cleaners and buttons, and I made the best project in the whole class, an ultra-powerful rubber-band zip gun, but the teacher gave me a zero because I got her in the eye with a button.

There was no Disney World then, just rows of orange trees. Millions of them. Stretching for miles. And somewhere near the middle was the Citrus Tower, which the tourists climbed to see even more orange trees. Every month an eighty-year-old couple became lost in the groves, driving up and down identical rows for days until they were spotted by helicopter

You never get over something like that. You just try to keep it in a box on an out-of-the-way shelf in your brain. But then you open the closet to look for an old sousaphone—

Hard to imagine now, but remember back when there was only one phone company, and long-distance minutes were droplets of gold? And you'd be traveling out of state and call home to let the folks know you made it okay, and say, 'I'd like to place a person-to-person call to I. M. Safe'? . . .

Shhh," said Serge. "The flashback is starting…

Look forward to the wonderment of growing up, raising a family and driving by the gas station where the popular kids now work.