Pastoral Resources

I know what it's like to be in one place and dream of another. I also know what it's like to feel that nostalgia is a fairly useless thing because it is stasis.

I don't like nostalgia unless it's mine.

I hate nostalgia, I want nothing to do with it.

I feel like I've never had a home, you know? I feel related to the country, to this country, and yet I don't know exactly where I fit in... There's always this kind of nostalgia for a place, a place where you can reckon with yourself.

Nostalgia is not what it used to be.

The scenic ideals that surround even our national parks are carriers of a nostalgia for heavenly bliss and eternal calmness.

I've never returned to the locations. I do remember certain days more clearly than others and certain locations with a sense of nostalgia. Perhaps one day, I'll bring my daughter to see them, if she's interested.

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

I remember those days with Bergman with great nostalgia. We were aware that the films were going to be quite important, and the work felt meaningful.

This was nostalgia in the literal Greek sense: the pain of not being able to return to one's home and family.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

I prefer the mystic clouds of nostalgia to the real thing, to be honest.

It isn't necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice. There are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, and the other is nostalgia.