Quotes About Childhood

He had been so dear to me that for my entire childhood the mere thought that one day he could no longer exist brought all of nature, both outside and inside of me, to a standstill.—But actually, under the influence of ever deeper initiation, nature eventually became more expressive, touching and moving to me with every loss that I suffered as if it brought me ever closer to its heart.

Lo que se necesita no es más que esto: soledad, gran soledad interior. Adentrarse en sí mismo y no encontrarse con nadie durante horas: esto es lo que hay que poder alcanzar. Estar solo, como se estaba solo de niño, cuando los adultos andaban enredados con cosas que parecían importantes y grandes, porque los mayores parecían muy ocupados y porque uno no comprendía nada de lo que hacían.

How much childhood is in that picture, and how everything is already settled there in the quiet, so indescribably lonely state of being a child, at the time when seated in an armchair one cannot touch the floor and with immense courage just keeps sitting there in that vast space which begins all around one and goes on and on. It is a very sweet and meaningful small picture. Thank you for letting me see it.

And if you were in some prison the walls of which let none of the sounds of the world come to your senses—would you not then still have your childhood, that precious, kingly possession, that treasure-house of memories? Turn your attention thither. Try to raise the submerged sensations of that ample past; your personality will grow more firm, your solitude will widen and will become a dusky dwelling past which the noise of others goes by far away.

If there is nothing in common between you and other people, try being close to things, they will not desert you; there are the nights still and the winds that go through the trees and across many lands; among things and with the animals everything is still happening, in which you may participate; and children are still the way you were as a child, sad like that and happy.

Ask yourself, dear Mr. Kappus, whether you really have lost God? Is it not rather, that you have never yet possessed him? For when should that have been? Do you not believe that a child can hold him, him whom men bear only with effort and whose weight compresses the old? Do you believe that anyone who really has him could lose him like a little stone, or do you not think rather that whoever had him could only be lost by him?

All feelings are pure that focus you and raise you up. Any thoughts that match up to your childhood are good. Everything that makes more of you is right.

Para el verdadero creador no hay pobreza ni lugares comunes. Y aunque se encontrase encerrado en una prisión cuyos muros impidieran que el fragor del mundo alcanzase su entendimiento, ¿no podría recurrir siempre a su infancia, ese reino delicioso, esa cámara del tesoro que alberga tantos recuerdos?

And even if you were in some prison the walls of which let none of the sounds of the world come to your senses—would you not then still have your childhood, that precious, kingly possession, that treasure-house of memories? Turn your attention thither. Try to raise the submerged sensations of that ample past; your personality will grow more firm, your solitude will widen and will become a dusky dwelling past which the noise of others goes by far away.

And about feelings: All feelings that concentrate you and lift you up are pure; only that feeling is impure which grasps just one side of your being and thus distorts you. Everything you can think of as you face your childhood, is good. Everything that makes more of you than you have ever been, even in your best hours, is right. Every intensification is good, if it is in your entire blood, if it isn't intoxication or muddiness, but joy which you can see into, clear to the bottom.

In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth.

I covet truth; beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth.

Then I said, "I covet truth; Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth.

IT IS NATURAL TO BELIEVE in great men. If the companions of our childhood should turn out to be heroes, and their condition regal, it would not surprise us. All mythology opens with demigods, and the circumstance is high and poetic; that is, their genius is paramount. In the legends of the Gautama, the first men ate the earth, and found it deliciously sweet.

when we look in their faces we are disconcerted. Infancy conforms to nobody;

Oh! I'm going to do good things for my child. Balony! That's all ego. Just work on yourself And: Everytime you work on yourself, you get calmer you hear more you sense more you are more you're more present What are you offering a child? not a set of social roles passing in the night. . . . youre offering a child here and now — ness The treasure of consciousness The treasure of awareness.

I feel like a child who has found a wonderful trail in the woods. Countless others have gone before and blazed the trail, but to the child it's as new and fresh as if it had never been walked before. The child is invariably anxious for others to join in the great adventure. It's something that can only be understood by actual experience. Those who've begun the journey, and certainly those who've gone further than I, will readily understand what I am saying.

We can't surrender to the culture. We've minimized the role of fathers, so we've created a generation of barbarians, children who become men without growing up. They stay in boyhood through their 20s and 30s, sometimes their whole lives. They think of themselves first, indulge in pornography, do what they feel like, leave their wives, and culture, and churches to raise their children.

How not to miss those days when the sun was a happy companion that stayed to play all year round and kissed me a careless nut brown? When Mother caught the sweet rain in her well behind the house, and the air was so clear that the grass smelled green?

La fel cum bondarul zboar? deÈ™i nu are o form? aerodinamic?, tot aÈ™a un om care îÈ™i aminteÈ™te ce înseamn? s? fii copil È™tie s? acorde raÈ›iunii È™i emoÈ›iei locul cuvenit, p?strând în acelaÈ™i timp ochii deschiÈ™i în faÈ›a miracolului lumii. Amintirile È™i visurile în care întrez?rim o f?râm? de mirare ne îndeamn? s? c?ut?m mai departe.

A defini mirarea pentru un adult înainte de a o vedea prin ochii unul copil înseamn? a rata farmecul copil?riei. Cred c? vom descoperi c? deÈ™i copil?ria nu este o soluÈ›ie, ea este cheia pentru ajungerea la destinaÈ›ie.

Trains and boxcars and the smell of coal and fire are not ugly to children. Ugliness is a concept that we happen on later and become self-conscious about.

The home environment can undo a lot you try to do at school. That's why we've lowered the kindergarten age year after year until now we're almost snatching them from the cradle.

Forgive, I hope you won't be upset, but when I was a boy I used to look up and see you behind your desk, so near but far away, and, how can I say this, I used to think that you were Mrs. God, and that the library was a whole world, and that no matter what part of the world or what people or thing I wanted to see and read, you'd find and give it to me.