I began a lifelong affair with nostalgia, with only the vaguest notions of what I was nostalgic for.
My whole life is out here-the whole of my life...I'd come here naked, as a boy-straight from that river out there-throw my clothes on the floor and climb into that loft and lie there dreaming in the h...
(n.) Homesickness; esp., a severe and sometimes fatal form of melancholia, due to homesickness.
Once a thing is removed from your heart, a trace of it still remains.
The Greek word for return is nostos. Algos means suffering. So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return.
Nostalgia is powerful. It is natural, human to long for the past, particularly when we can remember our histories as better than they were.
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 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...
And the farther I walked away, the more upset I got, at the loss of one of the few stable and unchanging docking-points in the world that I had taken for granted: familiar faces, glad greetings: hey m...
Above all, staring at my old bedroom ceiling, I feel safe. Cocooned from the world; wrapped up in cotton wool. No one can get me here. No one even knows I'm here. I won't get any nasty letters and I w...
1980's: not a time period but a state of mind.
Old houses were scaffolding once and workmen whistling.
We all leave behind bits of loose thread. Old operations, old enemies. They pull at you, like memories of old lovers.
Nelle notti d’inverno, mentre faceva cuocere la minestra nel camino, soffriva la nostalgia del caldodel suo retrobottega, il ronzio del sole nei mandorli polverosi, il fischio del treno nel sopore del...
I may not know who I am, but I know where I am from.
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...
Which one of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite?
Nostalgia is the only acceptable form of sadness.
Pourquoi nier l’évidente nécessité de la mémoire?
It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched for they are full of the truthless ideal which have been instilled into them, and eac...
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...