"nostalgic" içeren İngilizce örnek cümleler

In nostalgic moments we may tend to think of childhood as a time of almost unbroken happiness.
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The orchestra struck up nostalgic music.
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She indulged herself in nostalgic memories.
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There are people who go mad for the nostalgic feel and also those who love originality.
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When it comes to cheese, it's Camembert. More than the taste, it makes me nostalgic.
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Even now when I see a terakoya play, I feel somewhat nostalgic.
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I was feeling nostalgic.
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Among all cheeses, the one that I like is Camembert. I love its smell because it makes me nostalgic.
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It's making me nostalgic.
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Tom felt nostalgic.
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I'm feeling nostalgic right now.
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Sami's home feels kind of nostalgic.
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Mary is too nostalgic of a person to live fully in the present.
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Blizzards always make me feel so nostalgic.
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This game is so nostalgic.
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I don't know why, but every time I hear this song I get all nostalgic.
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I don't know why, but every time I hear that song I get all nostalgic.
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I think that he, though not a fascist properly speaking, is nostalgic for fascism.
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He was nostalgic about the greenness of his homeland.
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Sometimes I feel nostalgic for my childhood, I feel like things were easier back then.
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Whenever he looks at his nephews, a nostalgic glow comes into his eyes.
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Many Algerians are nostalgic for Boumediene's era.
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I'm feeling nostalgic.
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This song makes me nostalgic.
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This song makes me feel nostalgic.
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I can't be nostalgic now about the Computer Science Building at my university, UBC, because they've created a new building for Computer Science at the other side of the campus after my time. I know that my class pictures are in one of its hallways.
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At my university, UBC, the Aquatic Centre that I was nostalgic about was built in 1978, but was replaced by a new state-of-the-art facility in 2017. In the 1980s as a student, I enjoyed wading in the shallow end of the swimming pool and the jacuzzi, and sitting in the sauna.
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It is the 2nd of July of 2015. My friend Yaroslav is from the Ukraine, an ex-Soviet republic, and he grew up in the Soviet Era, when the ruble was money, but communism was the objective. He said that those good ol' childhood years were the best for him, and he feels nostalgic about them. Yaroslav has been a seaman engineer for some years. He has moved to Canada, and he studies English now, Russian being his first language and Ukrainian second. His original hair was near black, but is now whitening. He has blue eyes. He still looks like a big teenager. He is a pizza delivery man now at my local pizzeria, here at Lulu Island. We both discuss many deep, intellectual things at the pizza parlour, whilst he waits to go off for a delivery. He likes reading drama books, like Tolstoy. He likes drama movies, too. Unlike me, whose hobby is speculative fiction and astronomy, Yaroslav talks little of such things. My impression of Soviets were that they were all space-savvy. But he did mention once that within 1000 years, humanity will have to be really serious about space travel and out-of-Earth colonization, because our own Earth may fall into decay. I think that he tried to paraphrase Stephen Hawking the physicist. Yaroslav does not know Star Trek too well. I talked to him about teleportation, which scientists around the world are researching. They think that teleportation is not impossible.

When I drink too much, I get nostalgic and often tearful.

I suddenly feel nostalgic for my homeland.

Barns that have survived have become romantic landmarks and nostalgic curiosities. Thousands have been put to non-agricultural uses as historic museums, antique shops, firehouses and bed-and-breakfast inns. Preservationists are pleased that these relics have been rescued. But almost always, something is missing from this happy picture: a cornfield or a pasture.

Mama and cousin Eve often wax nostalgic about Roman Catholicism, evident when we have pasta meals at home. They are both converts to Protestantism. My late father Frank (or Jun) was the pioneer in my extended family, largely Roman Catholic, for conversion. Also, my paternal grandmother Lydia followed. My maternal grandfather Macario was already a Protestant of the United Church of Christ. He read literature from Baptists under Papa's influence. My Roman Catholic maternal grandmother Bebe was happy-go-lucky and couldn't care less about these things. My paternal grandfather Pito (Francisco) listened to Papa's witnessing and was proselytized to even at the death bed, when he died in his seventies.

Mr. Walker made good money building automobile radiators—enough that he can now afford to collect, recondition, display in that shed—and light upon request—hundreds of nostalgic neon signs.

I wonder what would have been, if administrators had chosen Chabacano, Philippine Creole Spanish, as an official language in the Philippines, much as administrators had chosen Tok Pisin, an English-based creole, as an official language in Papua New Guinea. Today, Filipinos wax nostalgic and poetic of the bygone Hispanic Era. After the Spanish-American War of 1898, Puerto Rico retained Spanish, but not the Philippines. Like an effervescent pink drink, English is now the main written language in the Philippines. However, the de facto aural-oral lingua franca in the archipelago is Taglish, the patois of code-switching between the two official languages, Filipino (Tagalog essentially) and English. Chabacano (Chavacano) combines Spanish with native elements. There is in Chabacano no verbal conjugation that does exist in Spanish, Tagalog, and English, which complicates these languages. Native languages in the Philippines have oodles of Spanish-derived words embedded in them. Native languages are of the Austronesian family, said to have originated thousands of years ago in Taiwan. About 200 languages exist in the Philippines. Most of them are of the Austronesian family, whilst Chabacano, an outgrowth of Hispanic colonization, sprouted like mushrooms in various places there.

What's something that makes you feel nostalgic?

The music that Mary listens to is very nostalgic and sad.

Yesterday I happened to find an old sketchbook that I had completely forgotten about and I felt nostalgic.

That night, Vladimir felt nostalgic.

There's something nostalgic about walking the shopping district in the evening.

After a dinner of 4 fresh green figs, some refrigerated pickled fig pieces, and microwaved spaghetti Alfredo, eaten on the balcony under a blue sky, I sipped my iced lime water whilst watching the still street below and the big tall conifer beyond. I've been talking to Michael the Dane-French ufologist in recent days about lots of things: My university was like a vacation of smart people, Zen gardens, stone libraries, and so forth. It's different from the suburbia here. We wondered if people staring addictively for hours on their smartphone would ruin their "mind's eye"—inhibiting one's own imagination. He noticed that their device distraction did ruin social gatherings in cafés. I just people-watch and meditate in the café: It reminds me of Arthur the Japanese-American software engineer in my software workplace in Japan; he could just sit on a counter whilst just staring at a wall for a long time. Lately, I've been asking Artificial Intelligence to write ballads and travelogues in Elizabethan English and nostalgic Tagalog. I pick blackberries on the walking way to Tim Hortons café: "¡Moras!" (Blackberries!), I often exclaim in Spanish. An Ecuadorian friend has "Mora" as his surname. He is partly Amerindian, maybe Incan. Today is the 3rd of August of 2025, here on Lulu Island. I went to Kin's Farm Market to buy a bag of 4 lemons, not limes, this time.

I can’t help but feel nostalgic when I listen to songs that marked important moments in my life.