Quotes About Childhood

I'm a big Batman fan; to be honest, to be a part of any superhero movie would really fulfill all of my childhood fantasies. If I could get beaten up by Batman, and just be part of the franchise, even getting kicked through a window would be great!

I had this moment in church, which I think really turned me off. I was 7 or 8 years old and I was sitting at church, and we happened to be playing with the sunlight that was coming down from the stained glass window, and the monsignor came down to the pew and grabbed us by our neck collars and said, 'I'll deal with you.'

I was in a daze in my childhood mostly - always looking out of the window, waiting for some life to happen that I wanted to live. Now I realise it is this, and that's what got me out of Gwalior.

I was crawling out of the bedroom window with my older sister when I should have still been playing with dolls.

When I was a kid, I'd take a small foam ball and try to get my shot over the couch so it would finish in the corner of the window.

I think I was always this weird, watchful kind of kid, and there was an awful lot of coming and going in my house as a result of my father being a doctor and then, later, a politician... We'd literally be having to get through the window some days because we couldn't get in the door.

I remember being a child eagerly looking out the Amtrak window, waiting for the New York City skyline to emerge.

My mum said I used to sing on the bus. I was about five and would simply sit, staring out of the window, singing to myself. When I got to the end of the song and everyone gave me a round of applause, it scared me because I was in my own little world, but I obviously loved singing even then.

When I wrote 'The Shadow Thief,' I had an obsession with Peter Pan. I get focused on things. In fact, I was an absolute horror to live with at that stage. I had a big fight with my mum because I wanted her to change the windows so Peter Pan could visit me.

I started playing cricket with my brother in our back garden when I was eight. The garden was long and thin, so it was perfect for us to play cricket in. We'd use a crate as the wicket. We broke quite a few windows.

I was born in 1935, so I was quite young when the war started. I remember we were in Bath, and it was 1942. We went down into the cellar of our house, and when we came up, I remember seeing all the glass on the floor where all the windows had been shaken out by the bombs.

So they all went away from the little log house. The shutters were over the windows, so the little house could not see them go. It stayed there inside the log fence, behind the two big oak trees that in the summertime had made green roofs for Mary and Laura to play under.

When I was 8, I got a little toy propeller plane: You could turn it on and the people disappeared from the little windows and stewardesses appeared, and it ran along the ground.

The house I grew up in had large plate-glass windows, which birds frequently crashed into headfirst. My father helped me assemble a bird hospital, consisting of a few shoe boxes, some old rags, and tiny dishes for water and food.

Kids used to come round to my house, and I'd force them to do a play in the bay windows of my house and get all the mums and dads to sit and watch. I'd write the programme, write the play and be the star.

When I was a girl, my grandmother would take me during the holidays to see the windows at Saks and Rockefeller Center.

I'd stand on the side of the road when I was just a little girl singing on trash cans. People would roll down their windows saying, 'Isn't she cute'. I had a vivid imagination. I always pretended it was some big stage.

My childhood bedroom - if childhood could be about ten years old - had a bed which was under windows which faced north. At about age 10, I started watching the stars just move through the night.

In my childhood dreams, I pictured Italy as paradise. I longed to be the next Sophia Loren, living in a village with winding cobbled streets where washing hung from windows and everybody gesticulated and shouted amicably. Ah, but life surprises.

From earliest childhood, I have rejoiced over the Santa Ana winds. I know those winds the way the Eskimos know their snows.

As a 9-year-old child, I vividly remember the day Hurricane Andrew touched down in 1992. My family was living in the Upper Florida Keys at the time, and we soon realized its utter devastation to South Florida, with entire blocks leveled by Andrew's vicious winds.

I grew up in Mossel Bay in South Africa on the Garden Route. It's really windy there, and I like it. I enjoy links golf a lot.

Those were hard times, but I loved living there. I would walk on the tracks, hopping, skipping. I enjoyed the neighborhood, I enjoyed El Paso. I remember being chased by tumbleweeds on windy days; they came up to my neck.

When I was little I adored the windy beaches of Ventor and the dinosaur cliffs at Alum Bay. I was thrilled to take the cable car, and I coveted the layers of coloured sand in tiny jars in the gift shop.