Quotes About Reminiscence

We define nostalgia as a yearning for the way things used to be in our often idealized and self-protective version of the past.

The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before.

She is standing in a garden trying to peg together scraps of memory on a washing line, but the wind snatches them away, scattering them out of her reach.

Men kan nooit werkelijk een plek-van-vroeger terug vinden, of een voorbije staat van zijn opnieuw beleven. Er is ooit een toestand van volmaakt geluk geweest die men in de loop van de tijd onophoudelijk verliest, vergeet. Toch blijft men geloveen dat die ergens in het verleden verzonken is en hervonden kan worden.

Visit the Navy-Yard, and behold a marine, such a man as an American government can make, or such as it can make a man with its black arts, -a mere shadow and reminiscence of humanity, a man laid out alive and standing, and already, as one may say, buried under arms with funeral accompaniments, though it may be, - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart were hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot, O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

behold a marine, such a man as an American government can make, or such as it can make a man with its black arts, a mere shadow and reminiscence of humanity, a man laid out alive and standing, and already, as one may say, buried under arms with funeral accompaniments

impression of having seen me before.  It was not till afterwards that I thought this rather characteristically dull of him.  I drew him far away—I was

Of a slim-waisted deer-swift boy... My tongue remembers and is young.

arka planda,zay?f anlar?nda bakt???n bir kartpostal gibi.Böylece seni her zaman orada beklediÄŸini hayal edebilirdin;deÄŸiÅŸmemiÅŸ,bozulmam??,....

These memories were beautiful, and they stung like nettles.

The reason why it is difficult to tell it is because I remember too much.

People can remember their childhood, but events from four or five years ago are in a never-never land.

These people live again in print as intensely as when their images were captured on old dry plates of sixty years ago... I am walking in their alleys, standing in their rooms and sheds and workshops, looking in and out of their windows. Any they in turn seem to be aware of me.

A film like Genevieve to my contemporaries is not a film made years ago, but last week or last year. They see me as I was then, not as I am now.

The last thing I stole was a box of Coca Cola from a parked truck in Adelaide. I was nice and drunk. It was New Year's Eve. And that was about 28 years ago.

And I did wonder - because it's now three years ago since I left prison - whether there would come a time when I would forget it, or it would be in the past as anything else might be - no, it's there every day of my life.

In bed at night, I could be reading some book, and I'll come across a sentence that's totally unrelated to some scene I did years ago. But I'll play the scene back in my mind and think, I did that wrong - I should've opened the door more slowly.

People, when they come up to me, are like, 'Did we go to high school together? Or did I make out with you at sleepaway camp?' And oftentimes, yes, that is the answer, because I went to a giant high school and made out with everybody.

My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are gray faces that peer over my shoulder.

People are so over what they did yesterday, they don't even sit and discuss what made it a great time. They'd have to be reminded by their Instagram, after 52 weeks, and it's like 'Oh, I remember that now.'

Everything in New York seems to merit preserving. If it's not historical, it's personal. If it's not personal, it's cultural. But you can't. You can't save everything. You just have to pack it up in your brain and take it with you when you go.

One of things I like about looking at pictures when you're young and also meeting back with old friends you haven't seen in a long time is, for me, it's a glimpse of who I was.

The woods that I loved as a child are entirely gone. The woods that I loved as a young adult are gone. The woods that most recently I walked in are not gone, but they're full of bicycle trails.

Every time that I come to Edgbaston it takes me back to some great first memories of coming here at a very young age.