Nostalgic Quotes

“We were together. I forget the rest.”
― Walt Whitman

“Once you embrace your value, talents and strengths, it neutralizes when others think less of you.”
― Rob Liano

“Nostalgia is an illness
for those who haven't realized
that today
is tomorrow's nostalgia.”
― Zeena Schreck

“Better to have it and not need it, then need it and not have it. Is that your logic?”
― R. Gerry Fabian, Just Out Of Reach

“I love how summer just wraps it’s arms around you like a warm blanket.”
― Kellie Elmore

“Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?”
― Charles Bukowski

“Okay then, the blood has dried into the shirt so as I cut it away, it may sting some as I pull it away. Can you be brave for me?”
― R. Gerry Fabian, Just Out Of Reach

“I want you to tell your aunt that she must convince your uncle to get a telephone installed. They are too old to live out there with no way to communicate with the outside world.”
― R. Gerry Fabian, Just Out Of Reach

“for those memories are now
just like these little kittens
I hold in my hands

those can be kissed
and treasured
but not held too tightly.”
― Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence

“Write me a story where there is no ending, Kitt.”
― Rebecca Ross, Ruthless Vows

“Growing up, I always had a soldier mentality. As a kid I wanted to be a soldier, a fighter pilot, a covert agent, professions that require a great deal of bravery and risk and putting oneself in grave danger in order to complete the mission. Even though I did not become all those things, and unless my predisposition, in its youngest years, already had me leaning towards them, the interest that was there still shaped my philosophies. To this day I honor risk and sacrifice for the good of others - my views on life and love are heavily influenced by this.”
― Criss Jami, Healology

“Some stories are rooted in adventure, some in strife. Others are born of the heart, and the horrors and the joys locked therein are often immeasurable, and make us truly wonder what became of those children we once were.”
― David E. Hilton, Kings of Colorado

“Because we didn’t have a lot of money, presents were few and heartfelt. I wrote letters to Santa and dreamed about my gifts, looked at the Sears & Roebuck or Monkey Ward catalog and dog-eared pages so I could revisit them often.”
― Larada Horner-Miller, Hair on Fire: A Heartwarming & Humorous Christmas Memoir

“Too much time will do that to you. Blur the edges between your memories and your imagination until everything feels like something you saw in a movie instead of your life.”
― Kami Garcia, Beautiful Redemption

“A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and murk. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rainwater, things that might've once been in these woods. Suddenly I was nostalgic for something I'd never knew.”
― Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief

“I loved you, I did. I believe I even sold myself a bit: on your love, my lust, your hair and just the way we stood there. How the air smelled of you, the way your shirt was cursed with blues. The way we danced by the ocean in front your mini-garden. The white fence, your loveliness and the heavenly kisses. It’ll always be the sheets, lying beside, holding your arm and kissing your hair in a loving stride.”
― Dominic Riccitello

“I had the sense of Sunday evening, or the journey back from the airport after a holiday. The feeling of things coming to an end.”
― Abigail Dean, Girl A

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”
― Diane Green

“I'm a veracious Nostalgic.”
― Sino Melo

“Henry was childhood personified: Maggi seasoning drizzled over sunny-side-up eggs, a warm baguette, white rabbit candy, paper lanterns during the mid-autumn festival”
― Carolyn Huynh, The Family Recipe

“Taking my seat at the back of the café, I spotted salep on the menu, a warm winter drink made from the powdered dried tubers of wild orchids, specifically Ophrys speculum, which has weird furry bumblebee-like flowers. I ordered a glass. Two steel shakers, one of ginger and one of cinnamon, were set down with the cup and I sprinkled both powders onto the drink, hot and dairy-tasting. It instantly reminded me of childhood, its subtle flavor not easy to nail down: vanilla-like, reminiscent of mastic, earthy, woody, smooth as velvet. The sort of thing you'd take to sip under the covers while reading a bedtime story.”
― Caroline Eden, Cold Kitchen: A Year of Culinary Travels

“It was then I started to fully understand the greater importance of blink, that it was bigger than the three of us. The band had been around for more than twenty years. People had grown up with us. Lost their virginity to our music. Hung our posters on their bedroom walls. They had kids of their own and introduced our music to them. We were transcending into something more than a band. blink was an idea. And we couldn't let that idea die.”
― Mark Hoppus

“Seven Heinz packets dissolved in boiled New York tap. Mix with a plastic spoon in a Styrofoam cup. Serve with broken saltines, if available. Ketchup soup.
He sucked back tears as he stirred.
When the ghost materialized, a kid in his teens, Kostya just wanted to hug him.
That dish was proof--- the aftertastes didn't have to be sophisticated. They didn't even have to taste good. To anyone who tried this Campbell's Tomato knock-off without knowing what it was, it probably ranked somewhere between awful and inedible. But that was the thing about food you ate when you had nothing: the smallest things--- warmth, crunch, calories, someone making it for you, taking care of you even if only in some small way, or making it for yourself, proving that you could survive even when the world didn't want you to--- could make it the best thing you ever ate.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“Irish Whiskey. Not Jameson. Not Teeling. Sexton. Strong and toasty, honeyed fruit stinging his nose. Sweet sponge cake. Soft, so soft, sopping with booze, oozing into his throat. Coconut Cruzan. Flavored Dominican rum, the scent of an island breeze. Beeswax, from a birthday candle, crackling between his teeth.
He'd know that rum cake anywhere. Warm and heady, half-Irish, half-Dominican, with the promise of a good time. Just like the man himself.
In all the time they'd lived together, Frankie had never had a sweet tooth--- preferred heat and spice, salt to sugar--- but whenever he went home to his mama's, he'd come back with a Tupperware of this. It was what she made every birthday, every holiday, every time her baby visited. It was the stuff of Frankie's childhood memories, the magic of his sweetest moments baked into a bundt and soused with sweet booze--- a shot of Cruzan for his 'lita, his mama's mama; a shot of Sexton for his grandmam--- and served to him in increasingly large slices as he aged up and learned to hold his liquor.
Kostya could almost see him, coming through the door with the container swinging in a plastic bag, digging a spoon out of the drawer, leaning over the kitchen counter to shovel it into his mouth, no plate, no chair, just a look of ecstatic nostalgia on his face.
Y'all can have the foie and lobster, he once said, scooping crumbs into his mouth. This is my death row wish. Want a bite?”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“We once climbed into bed as though between the sheets
was a valley where dinosaurs still lived.
And how we would explore them with a flashlight
catching these triceratops and brontosauruses.
But even he was opened with the dripping teeth of reality.”
― Anis Mojgani, Songs From Under The River

“I smell him in intervals, in varieties, in ways I don’t quite understand.”
― Dominic Riccitello

“I tried not to lose myself in the busy pattern of red, orange and brown chrysanthemums woven into the carpet”
― Iqbal Hussain, Northern Boy

“RECOMMENDED by the US Review… ‘well-written, interesting, and humorous’ with ‘a level of substance’” (Carol Anderson).”
― M. Chris polo

“Spirit that could not be broken. You do not yield. She would endure it again, if asked. She would do it. Every brutal hour and bit of agony. And it would hurt, and she would scream, but she’d face it.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Kingdom of Ash

“[...] je chanterai pour les personnes tristes qui collent leur tête contre leur radio. (70)”
― Lula Carballo