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Quote by Damond Jiniya

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Damond Jiniya

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“This empty kitchen's where I'd while away the hours Just next to my old chair You'd usually have some flowers The shelves of books Even the picture hooks Everything is gone But my heart is hanging on If this old neighborhood Survived us both alright Don't know that it withstood All the things that took our light You on the stair I can see you there Everything is gone But my heart is hanging on Once there was a little girl Used to wonder what she would be Went out into the big wide world Now she's just a memory There used to be a little school here Where I learned to write my name But time has been a little cruel here Time has no shame It's just a place where We used to live It's just a place where We used to live Now in another town You lead another life And now upstairs and down You're someone else's wife Here in the dust There's not a trace of us Everything is gone But my heart is hanging on It's just a place where We used to live It's just a place where We used to live.”

MusicNostalgiaMark KnopflerKnopflerRagpicker S Dream
Author:Mark Knopfler
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“My whole life is out here-the whole of my life...I'd come here naked, as a boy-straight from that river out there-throw my clothes on the floor and climb into that loft and lie there dreaming in the hay...All those summer days-scouring the banks of the Avon for smooth, round stones-scaring up ducks and foxes-kingfishers-swallows...somebody's dog...Oh, God-I want it back. Throwing stones that never reached the other shore. And the games-the games-the games, and all my friends...”

ChildhoodNostalgiaElizabeth RexTimothy Findley
Author:Timothy Findley
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“Nelle notti d’inverno, mentre faceva cuocere la minestra nel camino, soffriva la nostalgia del caldo del suo retrobottega, il ronzio del sole nei mandorli polverosi, il fischio del treno nel sopore della siesta, proprio come a Macondo soffriva la nostalgia della minestra invernale nel camino, del richiamo del venditore di caffè e delle lodole fugaci della primavera. Stordito da due nostalgie opposte come due specchi, perse il suo meraviglioso senso della irrealtà, e alla fine raccomandò a tutti che se ne andassero da Macondo, che dimenticassero tutto quello che lui gli aveva insegnato del mondo e del cuore umano, che se ne fottessero di Orazio, e che in qualsiasi luogo si fossero trovati si ricordassero sempre che il passato era menzogna, che la memoria non aveva vie di ritorno, che qualsiasi primavera antica è irrecuperabile, e che l’amore più sfrenato e tenace era in ogni modo una verità effimera.”

InspirationalNostalgiaRicordi
Author:Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez
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