Quotes About Childhood

Bob was not a young man, and he knew about loss. He knew the quiet that arrived, the blinding force of panic, and he knew that each loss brought with it some odd, barely acknowledged sense of release. He was not an especially contemplative person, and he did not dwell on this. But by October there were many days when the swell of rightness, loose-limbedness, and gentle gravity came to him. It recalled to him being a child, when he found one day he could finally color within the lines.

This had often broken my heart, to realize that you never know the last time you pick up a child. Maybe you say "Oh, honey, you're getting too big to be picked up" or something like that. But then you never pick them up again.

I know faintly, even now, that I have embarrassed myself, and it always comes back to the feeling of childhood, that huge pieces of knowledge about the world were missing that can never be replaced.

Spense la sigaretta nel portacenere. Non si sarebbe messa a lamentarsi, non era più una bambina. Ma le restava dentro un dolore. E un suono continuo e sommesso, il debole riverbero qualcosa di simile alla gioia, continuava a vivere ai margini della sua memoria, una qualche specie di desiderio che un tempo aveva trovato risposta e ora, semplicemente, non più.

Pete's death. It felt to me as though my entire childhood had died. You might think—I would have thought—that I wanted every part of my childhood gone. But I did

I had often thought before: that there had been a last time—when they were little—that I had picked up the girls. This had often broken my heart, to realize that you never know the last time you pick up a child. Maybe you say "Oh, honey, you're getting too big to be picked up" or something like that. But then you never pick them up again.

And thinking of this now made me think of something I had often thought before: that there had been a last time - when they were little - that I had picked up the girls. This had often broken my heart, to realize that you never know the last time you pick up a child. Maybe you say "Oh honey, you're getting too big to be picked up" or something like that. But then you never pick them up again.

Awful to think she was a disapproving mother. Awful to wonder—had she always frightened Amy? Is that why the girl had grown up so fearful, always ducking her head? It was bewildering to Isabelle. Bewildering that you could harm a child without even knowing, thinking all the while you were being careful, conscientious. But it was a terrible feeling.

My whole childhood was a lockdown. I never saw anyone or went anywhere.

But I was so sad that evening: I understood—as I have understood at different points in my life—that the childhood isolation of fear and loneliness would never leave me. My childhood had been a lockdown.

And he could not believe it. He really could not believe it. It was not unlike falling off his bicycle so many years ago when he was a child, the slow sense of something terrible happening, and the knowledge that there was nothing he could do about it. Watching the pavement come up to meet his cheek.

But with my mother I didn't dare cry. Both my parents loathed the act of crying, and it's difficult for a child who is crying to have to stop, knowing if she doesn't stop everything will be made worse. This is not an easy position for any child.

I never understood my first cooking lesson. I was six and had chicken pox, and my mother, having exhausted all other entertainments, began to explain how to boil an egg. The water must be salted. "It's to keep them from cracking." She regarded the egg. "But they still crack." We pondered this for a moment, then I nodded. Whether it cracked or not, obviously an egg had to be pacified with an offering of salt.

Give a child a good birth (if at all possible, no drugs to the mother)=1 and a good first three years, especially a good first three months, and a major part of the job of child rearing is done.

But he recognized that the illusions of the child only differed from those of the man in that they were more picturesque; belief in fairies and belief in the Stock Exchange as bestowers of happiness were equally vain, but the latter form of faith was ugly as well as inept.

I get really cool gifts, and I know this sounds really lame, but I think one of the best gifts I've ever received was the Easy Bake Oven when I was younger. When I was little, I loved to bake! I want to get one now so I can make weird mini desserts for people.

Some girl once read me a poem," Ben said after a while, as the kettle sang, "about all the things we can remember from all the other lives we've had, for forty days after we're born. 'Some great forty-day daydream," he pulled the line from the crevasses of his memory, and he wasn't sure how, "before we bury the maps.' Maybe it's not forty days; maybe it's all your dreams in childhood, bits of memory you can't decipher because they belong to a person you no longer are....

I grew up in the business since I was three years old so I've always kind of been in front of the camera and grew up in commercials and I knew that I wanted to do it no matter what, I just loved it.

When I was little, I saw the play 'Les Miserables' on Broadway, I thought it was the most amazing thing I have ever seen.

I will never forget the haunting scream of that child as she watched her father being brutally beaten.

You go back. You search for what made you happy when you were smaller. We are all grown up children, really... So one should go back and search for what was loved and found to be real.

I think people tend to see the bigger point, which is maybe not fitting in and feeling like you didn't have the childhood that you expected you would have, or that you felt lonely or struggled with drugs and alcohol or just that you were able to achieve your dreams.

Internet, jogos de video, computadores, são úteis, mas tâm destruído algo inviolável: a infância. Onde está o prazer do silência? Onde está a arte da observação? Onde está a inocência? Angustia-me que o sistema esteja a gerar crianças insatisfeitas e ansiosas. Fortes candidatas a serem doentes psiquiátricos e não seres humanos felizes e livres.

I once asked a little boy why he liked Passover the best of the Jewish festivals. He answered at once, "Because of the Cyder nights." He meant "Seder" nights, the first two evenings of the festivals, and I had expected that would be his answer. Then I asked him why he liked the Seder nights, and he replied, after thinking a minute, "Because I am allowed to stay up late."