I've been turning over in my mind the question of nostalgia, and whether I suffer from it?...

Tony Webster:

[Voiceover of a letter he wrote]
I've been turning over in my mind the question of nostalgia, and whether I suffer from it? I suppose I am nostalgic. I think of my time with Margaret; with Susie's birth and her first years; a bunch of kids in school; a girl dancing for once in her life; a secret horizontal gesture beneath a sunlit wisteria. I think of Adrian's definition of "history." I think of everything that has happened in my life, and how little I have allowed to happen - I, who neither won nor lost, who avoided being hurt, and called it a capacity for survival. I think about how our lives got entwined, and went along together for a time. And when I look back now on that time, however brief, I am moved more than I thought possible. Indeed I'm sorry that I've known nothing of your life in the years since. No doubt you could've taught this old fool a thing or two... Perhaps, in a way, you have