Sentimental Objects Quotes

And I always keep cards people send me. I have a whole wall covered with them.

I keep mementos from everything I've done.

I clean out my house weekly. I just keep a lot of silly little things that are meaningful to me.

I don't collect things per se, but I do pick up things as I go. Like, in my studio I have an old sewing machine from Germany that my dad gave me, and then something else that I got from a friend in India, and a piece of flooring from one of my shows.

All my jewelry has stories.

I am a complete sentimentalist when it comes to clothes. I have so many memories attached to them that I can't throw anything out.

I always want objects in my home that have a connection to me or something I've loved. It's still stuff, but it's stuff that has meaning.

Sometimes a single item can wrap up, in a nutshell, who a person is. In my grandparents' home, a clear plastic container was enthroned on top of the mahogany bar for at least a decade. Painted on the lid in pink, yellow and light blue was 'Have a Nosh With Mort & Ethel'.

My desk is covered with talismans: pieces of rose quartz, wishing stones from a favorite beach.

I keep two sentimental mementos on my desk to remind me of two favorite men. There is an inkwell that my Uncle Seymour made, a brass grotesque he mounted on a marble base. And my grandfather's shaving cup is there, used to store pencils and pens.

Everything from a lifetime's worth of collecting things. You know as we go through life, and something stays and ends up on your shelf and lives there until you die? Just those little things.

If you have moved over vast territories and dared to love silly things, you will have learned even from the most primitive items collected and put aside in your life.

Everywhere in my house are these little things that have meanings and make me think of great memories.

Jewelry is something that has to do with emotion. That aspect of jewelry really interests me.

I stare at the pile of discarded remnants and think of my mother. Did she touch that pillar there? Does her scent still linger in a fragment of glass or a splinter of wood? A terrible emptiness settles into my chest. No matter how much I go about living, there are always small reminders that make the loss fresh again.

Our house was cluttered with little charms, thoughtfully placed. There were all kinds of little things going on. Like, my mom made a lampshade out of a picture of our family, but if you look closely, there's a baby Jesus that she cut up and put just above all of us.

He sank into the rocking chair, the same one in which Rebecca had sat during the early days of the house to give embroidery lessons, and in which Amaranta had played Chinese checkers with Colonel Gerineldo Marquez, and in which Amarana Ursula had sewn the tiny clothing for the child, and in that flash of lucidity he became aware that he was unable to bear in his soul the crushing weight of so much past.

I tend to look out for things with a resonance to my youth - artists or objects that seemed romantic all those years ago. I never buy anything purely for its value. I like possessions that smile back at me.

I have two paintings that used to belong to my grandmother, who lived in Chicago. When I was young, I used to sleep over at her house. They came to me when she passed away. I remember looking at them when I was a girl, and now, every time I see them, I feel good.

I've never kept a record of anything. I gave away everything: all the posters, the memorabilia that would have been helpful - and financially rewarding.

Really, my sacred place is my study where there are books that I love and things that people have given me.

We take things to remind us of home. I think my favourite is a stuffed dog that was homemade from a picture of my little Jack Russell terrier.