Quotes About Souvenirs

I have a whole box full of pieces of the Berlin Wall and a heart made from the barbed wire of the Iron Curtain. It's - they're cherished treasures to me now, of course.

I used to collect knick-knacks, like wizards, trolls and little buddhas, and arrange them like precious things on a shelf.

I bought the records. Can't play them now. No wind-up gramophone! But I am a sentimental fellow and I keep them among my souvenirs as a reminder of the days when I walked home alone across the silent, moonlit parade ground, after the evening show was over.

As souvenirs he carried away a Boer carbine, a band triangle, a half-knitted sock made with needles fashioned from barbed wire and a set of leg fetters.

What was the rationale for all this pillaging? Souvenirs. These people needed something to remember themselves by. An odd thing, souvenir-hunting: now becomes then even while it is still now. You don't really believe you're there, and so you nick the proof, or something you mistake for it.

Funny how internal scars never healed. They were the souvenirs of the past.

Everything from a lifetime's worth of collecting things. You know as we go through life, and something stays and ends up on your shelf and lives there until you die? Just those little things.

I'm looking for a bunch of new tchotchkes that represent the new part of my life.

The only thing I keep from the races I've won are the handle bar grips from the bike, the rubber bits.

Some days, I would find what seemed like entire family trees, torn from once-treasured albums and dumped in disorganized bins, selling 10 for a dollar. I wondered how people could give up pictures of their great-grandparents for complete strangers to paw through - or why complete strangers would want them.

Naples is famous for its handmade ties so I always buy them there.

Then a senior KGB officer appeared and apologised for the misunderstanding. 'Perhaps we can go for a drink to smooth this over,' he suggested. We were all released into the night and agents gave each of us KGB cap badges as souvenirs.

How often attachment is mistaken for love! Even when the relationship is a good one, love is spoiled by attachment, with its insecurity, possessiveness, and pride; and then when love is gone, all you have left to show for it are the "souvenirs" of love, the scars of attachment.

I am mad about hats. I collect them as souvenirs from my globe trotting.

The nineteenth century lynching mob cuts off ears, toes, and fingers, strips off flesh, and distributes portions of the body as souvenirs among the crowd.

Or were those trifles all you had? Oughtn't you, precisely, to preserve them? To make little crystal drops of them, that you could keep, like charms on a bracelet, to tell against danger when next it came?

We might laugh at the notion of plastic tea sets in the jungle, but it is a time-honored ritual for Western travelers to collect preindustrial artifacts to use as home decorations...Possession of primitive artifacts suggests worldly knowledge, just as in the highland communities of Borneo an electronic wristwatch that plays "Happy Birthday" is the mark of a great traveler. Funny thing how travel can narrow the mind.

I'm a pack rat. There's only a couple pairs of tights I've worn throughout my career that I don't have. I save everything.

In this business, if you're a success, there's some folks who actually worship you. I have been to some places where it's impossible to walk across the stage without having the major portion of my outfit torn off for souvenirs.

My dad worked for different companies that made whiskey for a long time, so we were definitely whiskey drinkers. Growing up, my friends would get toy cars, and I would get swag from whisky companies.

German tourists cover the beaches and buy anything with a For Sale sign.

If the past is a foreign country, it is a shockingly violent one. It is easy to forget how dangerous life used to be, how deeply brutality was once woven into the fabric of daily existence. Cultural memory pacifies the past, leaving us with pale souvenirs whose bloody origins have been bleached away.

What the fuck happened to you? [...] You look like you lost a fight with a lamprey. Hickey, hickey...bruise, bruise, bruise...bite. I thought that thing on your neck the other day was just a fluke. I guess not--looks like you get off on picking up a few souvenirs when you...get off. ~Crash

I have many good 'souvenirs.' I remember when I was 19 and we beat Madrid 5-3 and I won my first European Cup. Also, in 1965, when I won the Golden Ball for the best player in Europe.