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Exlpore more Nostalgia quotes
"Sometimes to return is a vulgarity."
"I used to be a poet.My words were traded in marketplaces like pieces of gold.Merchants bought my verses for as much as they paid for saffron and Indian jade.Now I am old...drunk on wine and candle fumes.Alone in this barren room, I speak my psalms to the night air so as to entertain moths before they go off to die.I used to be a poet and my words were gold."
"Summer was a book of hope. That's why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe."
"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."
"Yet, when this cherished volume was now placed in my hand-when I turned over its leaves, and sought in its marvellous pictures the charm I had, till now, never failed to find-all was eerie and dreary; the giants were gaunt goblins, the pigmies malevolent and fearful imps, Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in most dread and dangerous regions. I closed the book, which I dared no longer peruse, and put it on the table, beside the untasted tart."
"The blue-backed notebooks, the two pencils and the pencil sharpener (a pocket knife was too wasteful) the marble-topped tables, the smell of early morning, sweeping out and mopping, and luck were all you needed. For luck you carried a horse chestnut and a rabbit's foot in your right pocket. The fur had been worn off the rabbit's foot long ago and the bones and the sinews were polished by wear. The claws scratched in the lining of your pocket and you knew your luck was still there."
Explore more quotes by John Geddes
"A bard's down-to-earth love: My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red and when she walks, treads on the ground..."
"I'm shy in person - so afraid to confess my love - I need a go-between - our mutual friend, the Moon..."
"Don't be self-conscious - other people are completely unaware of you and more concerned with how they appear ..."
"To know an other's interior life you are his confessor or a writer - the one is admitted freely, the other intrudes by discerning of spirits."
"I hardly ever see your profile, but have I told you it's beautiful? - like the soft gentle lines of snow..."
"If I ever got sloppy and maudlin, it would be for the streets of my childhood-but no self- respecting writer should ever eulogize a slum..."
"You have changed everything for me- you rearranged the furniture and now you've changed the view from my window!..."
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