Real museums are places where Time is transformed into Space.
Not very long ago I was driving with my husband on the back roads of Grey County, which is to the north and east of Huron County. We passed a country store standing empty at a crossroads. It had old-f...
(n.) Homesickness; esp., a severe and sometimes fatal form of melancholia, due to homesickness.
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.
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...
There were always those passengers who came aboard bearing grudges against the modern age.
Nostalgia is a longing for your home.
Sebastian is in love with his own childhood. That will make him very unhappy.
Nostalgia, more than anything, gives us the shudder of our own imperfection. This is why with Chopin we feel so little like gods.
Useless to tell myself that a dreamand the memory of yesterday are the same thing
And that's my problem. I love to be alone and hate being around people, but I love to be with people and hate being alone. I don't know what I like and I don't know what I want. Time is a difficult th...
Philosophy is really nostalgia, the desire to be at home.
Writing from memory like this, I often feel a pang of dread. What if I've forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the the truly important memori...
When he stepped into the shower, the hot water scalded him. He let it run over his face, burning his eyelids. He put up with the pain, his jaw clenched and his muscles taut, suppressing the urge to ho...
Now memories have an unusual way of coming back to you in the middle of a day.
The 'what should be' never did exist, but people keep trying to live up to it. There is no 'what should be,' there is only what is.
We drove down Corydon avenue towards my mother's apartment. How are you doing, she asked me? Fine, fine, I said. I wanted to tell her that I felt I was dying from rage and that I felt guilty about eve...
The uncertainty of the future made them turn their hearts toward the past. They saw themselves in the lost paradise of the deluge, splashing in the puddles in the courtyard, killing lizards to hang on...
It's the problem in seeing too much of the world. In loving too much of it. You can only live in one place at a time. And eventually, you pick your spot, and the memories of all the others just become...
What was our life like? I almost don't remember now. Though I remember , the space of time it occupied. And I remember it fondly.
This was before voice mail, recorded phone messages you can't escape. Life was easier then. You just didn't pick up the phone.