She could sense it very clearly: for me, no less than for her, the past counted far more than the present, remembering something far more than possessing it. Compared to memory, every possession can o...
If we could imagine, while we live them, to what mundane moments nostalgia manages to stick itself...
(n.) Homesickness; esp., a severe and sometimes fatal form of melancholia, due to homesickness.
Nostalgia... the blessing of a merciful memory.
It would be one hell of an addition to someone's scrapbook. (Dark City Lights)
She used to wander through the past as often as it beckoned her, bemoaning the loss of nostalgia. Then, for a while, she turned from it, blissfully free of its noxious clutch, and now it's back, taunt...
The more vast the amount of time we've left behind us, the more irresistible is the voice calling us to return to it. This pronouncement seems to state the obvious and yet it is false. Men grow old, t...
Have you ever been homesick for someplace that doesn'tactually exist anymore? Someplace that exists only in yourmind?
In the evening, the tarantella dancers will come to the hotel; perhaps they'll dance and sing in the courtyard that is dripping with wistaria blooms and pungent with citrus perfumes. They wear gay cos...
This sweet-bitter scentIs still making me faintEnduring the painThat makes me insane.Trying to smile everydayTo hide the feelings I bearHide in bed and layPraying to ease the fear.The scent of perfume...
In the quagmire of feelings and emotions that engulf us on our drab and monotonous days and starry, resplendent nights, the ones that bring back past memories hold a special place, almost a unique ped...
When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered...the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls...bearing resilient...
The log on the fire: is it dreaming of the forest?
When I was younger, I was told that there is too much inside me. That I have feelings where others have bone. At the age of seven, a doctor tapped inside my head and asked, "Do you choke on memories f...
Upstairs, in the cupboard, he had a box of things he had saved as a boy and a young man. He hadn't looked into it in twenty years or more. Nothing fancy or valuable, but things that had meant somethin...
We all leave behind bits of loose thread. Old operations, old enemies. They pull at you, like memories of old lovers.
It seems sometimes that we get so caught up in missing the past, or looking forward to the future, that we forget that this, right here and now, was once the days we longed for and will soon be the on...
If we don't remember where we came from, we'll go back there.
How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.
I wish I had heard him more clearly: an oblique confession is always a plea.
Will the time ever come when I am not so completely dependent on thoughts I first had in childhood to furnish the feedstock for my comparisons and analogies and sense of the parallel rhythms of microh...
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