Ann Aguirre Quotes

How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.

Nostalgia is always doomed and dooming.

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

I remember my youth and the feeling that will never come back any more

I miss it every minute, and I have no wish at all to go back.

It shocks me how I wish for...what is lost and cannot come back.

Things always seem fairer when we look back at them, and it is out of that inaccessible tower of the past that Longing leans and beckons.

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

One of things I like about looking at pictures when you're young and also meeting back with old friends you haven't seen in a long time is, for me, it's a glimpse of who I was.

Nostalgia is not what it used to be.

You can't really go back to where you came from. I don't think any of us can.

Nothing prevents happiness like the memory of happiness.

I realized I've spent all my life creating a past.

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

I like to read my diary occasionally to remind myself what a miserable, alienated old sod I used to be.

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.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

I miss the game - I miss it a lot.

I don't have a warm personal enemy left. They've all died off. I miss them terribly because they helped define me.

I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 A.M. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends.

I used to be.

Nostalgia is not a place to live.

I lay around and wonder why you were always there for me.

It's stupid, I know, but I care. All the things that meant so much when we were young. Under the blankets late at night, listening to long-distance radio. All those things lost now or broken. Can you remember? Can you remember that feeling? Perhaps I ought to go to a doctor.

I felt that I was leaving part of myself behind, and that wherever I went afterwards I should feel the lack of it, and search for it hopelessly, as ghosts are said to do, frequenting the spots where they buried material treasures without which they cannot pay their way to the nether world.