Comforting Memories Quotes

Food brings back memories. I had a mom that wasn't a good cook, so I would eat my grandma's food. It was amazing because it brings back a time almost in Technicolor. I see her house, I see her stove; I think about what it felt like when I was sick, and it felt like love.

Grief is a room without doors - but somehow, with its tinsel and cliches, Christmas finds a way in.

I rarely get recognized, and whenever I do, it has to do with 'The Leftovers' because it came into someone's life at a particularly important time for them - if they were dealing with grief or loss or whatever tragedy - and they just caught it. And there is no rhyme or reason to the kind of person it is.

At Christmas, 'It's a Wonderful Life' makes me cry in exactly the same places every time, even though I know it's coming.

Our favorite book is always the book that speaks most directly to us at a particular stage in our lives. And our lives change. We have other favorites that give us what we most need at that particular time. But we never lose the old favorites. They're always with us. We just sort of accumulate them.

I always knew I wanted kids, but when my mom passed away I was like, 'I want a bunch of kids. I want three kids or four kids, and I want to have that relationship again.' I can't bring my mom back, but I can have children.

When I miss Guru, I bump one of our records. Then I shed a tear and get back to work.

Farewell to Thee! But not farewell To all my fondest thoughts of Thee; Within my heart they still shall dwell And they shall cheer and comfort me.

I think as humans we're nostalgic creatures and that's what we do. We go back to things that have a semblance of something comforting, or enough time passes that it seems cool again, or maybe it's something that some people didn't even experience.

A sense of security, of well-being, of summer warmth pervades my memory. That robust reality makes a ghost of the present. The mirror brims with brightness; a bumblebee has entered the room and bumps against the ceiling. Everything is as it should be, nothing will ever change, nobody will ever die.

My father is with me every day. Although he passed away in 2003, he continues to live on inside me and through me - at home and work, on crowded subway cars and busy sidewalks.

My father smoked cigars his whole life, and my husband once in a while does. And when he does, it reminds me of my father. It's a heartwarming thing.

My grandpa and I loved Emeril. It was all he wanted to watch when he was in the hospital dying. When I met Emeril later, it was so emotional.

I'm a believer, but an unsettled one. I think it has something to do with the fact that my grandmother always told me she would come back and tickle my feet at night time when she passed away. She hasn't gotten me yet. But I keep the blanket over my feet at night, no matter how hot it is.

My troubles are all over, and I am at home; and often before I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick, standing with my friends under the apple trees.