He’s completely blown through his younger years like his childhood was one big cigarette to smoke carelessly.
How can days and happenings and moments so good become so quickly ugly, and for no reason, for no real reason? Just - change.With nothing causing it.
(n.) Homesickness; esp., a severe and sometimes fatal form of melancholia, due to homesickness.
However, I suppose VH1 *is* selling me something; they're selling nostalgia, which means they're selling my own memories back to me, which means they're selling me to me.
I am forty. [...] I know who I am. The treachery of possibilities that threaten to swamp a young guy -- I negotiated them. I'm on the other side. The safe side.Why then do I remember the perilous mome...
I became quietly seized with that nostalgia that overcomes you when you have reached the middle of your life and your father has recently died and it dawns on you that when he went he took some of you...
I don't like being with grown-up people. I've known that a long time. I don't like it because I don't know how to get on with them.
I have always been a reader; I have read at every stage of my life and there has never been a time when reading was not my greatest joy. And yet I cannot pretend that the reading I have done in my adu...
I have never forgotten, and I can't imagine you have, and I've thought of it over the years. It was so good, when it was good, I kept thinking. How could it go wrong?
I love the way he smelled whenever his head dipped close to hear what I was saying—like the sun striking th cheek of a tomato, or soap drying in the hood of a car. I loved the way his hand felt on my...
I may not know who I am, but I know where I am from.
I was born in the age of alas.
I was right when I said I’d never look back. It hurts too much, it drags at your heart till you can’t ever do anything else except look back.
I would never see her again, except in memory. She was here, and now she's gone. There is no middle ground. Probably is a word that you may find south of the border. But never, ever west of the sun.
I'm your phantom dance partner. I'm your shadow. I'm not anything more.
In her final years she would still recall the trip that, with the perverse lucidity of nostalgia, became more and more recent in her memory.
In theory momentos serve to bring back the moment. In fact they serve only to make clear how inadequately I appreciated the moment when it was here. How inadequately I appreciated the moment when it w...
It partook ... of eternity ... there is a coherence in things, a stability; something, she meant, is immune from change, and shines out (she glanced at the window with its ripple of reflected lights)...
It shocks me how I wish for...what is lost and cannot come back.
It shouldn't work. It shouldn't be magic. You shouldn't weep happy and then sad and then happy again. But you do. And I do. And we all do.
It's one thing to develop a nostalgia for home while you're boozing with Yankee writers in Martha's Vineyard or being chased by the bulls in Pamplona. It's something else to go home and visit with the...
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