Sentimental Memories Quotes

Allie would love what you've done," he remarked. "She was always a softie when it came to things like this." I folded my hands in my lap. "I wish she could be there this weekend." Noah glanced at the stack of letters. I knew he was imagining Allie, and for a brief moment, he looked strangely younger. "So do I," he said.

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.

Love was a dance floor where everyone you loved left a mark behind.

I have a Keurig coffee maker, which is really kind of a luxury. It was given to me by an ex. I realized when I'm feeling sentimental, I'll gently, tenderly press the button. Then when I remember he dumped me, I punch it.

Mothers remember a child's first words, and quote them in tones usually reserved for Byron.

Chicken,' Josie said. 'Have you ever been in love?' Peter looked at Josie, and thought of how they had once tied a note with their addresses to a helium balloon and let it go in her backyard, certain it would reach Mars. Instead, they had received a letter from a widow who lived two blocks away. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I think so.

The Columbia years are the most sentimental for me. My parents were together through most of that time and we were a happy, sort of normal family.

Anyone from my past I'm interested in, I've already stalked their homes. I like to go outside.

At drama school I learned the Stanislavski technique, which uses sentimental memories and bits of your past to put real emotion into the scene.

Might have been a time when I loved her too but you take that away and you'll always be the one.

Nostalgia is a very complicated subject for me. I'm attracted by nostalgia but I refuse it intellectually.

Christmas carols always brought tears to my eyes. I also cry at weddings. I should have cried at a couple of my own.

I'm someone who is very sentimental and nostalgic and attached to the homes I lived in, and I think moving is a traumatic experience.

When I think about my father, the first image that comes to mind is holding his hand as he drove me to the train station six weeks before he died; I had never noticed how beautiful his hands were until I saw them, for the first and last time, entwined in mine.

She'd preferred the uncertainty, if only because it allowed her to remember him the way he used to be. Sometimes, though, she wondered what he felt when he thought of that year they spent together, or if he ever marveled at what they'd shared, or even whether he thought of her at all.