Quotes About Reminiscence

Give me homesickness. Flash. Give me nostalgic childhood yearnings. Flash.

It's funny how you never think about the women you've had. It's always the ones who get away that you can't forget.

Eventually, when I stepped back inside the parlor door, only my nana's body was left on the sofa. The best of her--her laugh, her stories, even her coughing--was gone.

We see on our death bed, not our whole life flashing before us – as with a drowning man – but an endless sequence of all the things we had wanted to do and had never done.

Cherish your old apartments and pause for a moment when you pass them. Pay tribute, for they are the caretakers for your reinventions.

The I-Remember-Whensters lumbered in with their musty catalogues of the bygone, dragging IVs of distilled nostalgia behind them on creaky wheels

The old days, they arrive back in the oddest ways, suddenly taut, breaking the surface, a salmon leap.

There isn't a story in the world that isn't in part, at least, addressed to the past.

I was reminded of how years before, he had drifted away from one of our afternoon strolls and got surrounded by the tide - Corrigan, isolated on a sandbar, tangled in light, voices from the shores drifting over him, calling his name.

How long ago it was and how strange, but all dead friends come to life again sometimes.

Memory is three-quarters imagination and all the rest is lies.

Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit.

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit - Perhaps even these things will be good to remember one day

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuuabit.

it is strange how the dead leap out on us at street corners, or in dreams

kindling all over with pleasure at the thought of the past.

I come home—and I have a feeling of returning like a ghost to its haunt.

Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.

The act of vividly recalling a patch of the past is something that I seem to have been performing with the utmost zest all my life, and I have reason to believe that this almost pathological keenness of the retrospective faculty is a hereditary trait.

And I thought to myself how those fast little articles forget everything, everything, while we, old lovers, treasure every inch of their nymphancy

Where is the happiness, the sunshine, where are those thick skittles of wood which crashed and bounced so nicely, where is my bicycle with the low handlebars and the big gear? It seems there's a law which says that nothing ever vanishes, that matter is indestructible; therefore the chips from my skittles and the spokes of my bicycle still exist somewhere to this day. The pity of it is that I'll never find them again - never.

Actually she was at least in her late twenties (I never established her exact age for even her passport lied) and had mislaid her virginity under circumstances that changed with her reminiscent moods.

If only it were possible to juicily belch up the life one's lived, chew it anew and gulp it down, and then once more to roll it with a fat, ox-like tongue, to squeeze from its eternal dregs the former sweetness of crisp grass, drunk with the morning dew and the bitterness of lilac leaves!

He never saw that dress again and when he mentioned it in retrospective evocation she invariably retorted that he must have dreamt it