Julia Ward Howe Quotes

A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.

In 1957's 'There's No You,' Sinatra is suspended at the intersection of a loss he can't face and a memory he can't relinquish.

Nostalgia is something we think of as fuzzy. But it's pain. Pain concerning the past.

I miss the game - I miss it a lot.

The past always looks better than it was. It’s only pleasant because it isn’t here.

We are in the realm not of logic but of wistfulness, and I must maintain that wistfulness is a respectable, serious condition. How, otherwise, to account for much of one's life?

Here I am, safely returned over those peaks from a journey far more beautiful and strange than anything I had hoped for or imagined - how is it that this safe return brings such regret?

Ah, tell me not that memory sheds gladness o'er the past, what is recalled by faded flowers, save that they did not last?

Sharp nostalgia, infinite and terrible, for what I already possess.

I used to suffer from a lot of regret while touring. Regret at having to leave certain places, people and situations, or just a beautiful day.

I exist only in the past.

I'm just fascinated by the past. You know, both by the possibilities it holds and by the complete tyranny of it, the way it sort of keeps you in this stranglehold and makes you want things that you no longer have and you can never get back.

I don't have a great nostalgia for the past.

That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.

Nostalgia often leads to idle speculation.

We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

I am not nostalgic for the past.

If I speak of Vienna it must be in the past tense, as a man speaks of a woman he has loved and who is dead.

There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.

How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, When memory plays an old tune on the heart.

The Portuguese and Galician term 'saudade' suggests a profoundly bittersweet nostalgia.

I would have liked the old days.

There is no past that we can bring back to us by the longing for it.

There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery

What better is there to sigh for than happiness, yesterday's or tomorrow's.