Quotes About Childhood

I was only purely happy until I was nine years old. I had never really been happy again.

I thought how strange it had never occurred to me before that I was only purely happy until I was nine years old. After that--in spite of the Girl Scouts and the piano lessons and the water-color lessons and the dancing lessons and the sailing camp, all of which my mother scrimped to give me, and college with crewing in the mist before breakfast and blackbottom pies and the little new firecrackers of ideas going off every day-- I had never been really happy again.

I thought how strange it had never occurred to me before that I was only purely happy until I was nine years old

Dodo Conway was a Catholic who had gone to Barnard and then married an architect who had gone to Columbia and was also a Catholic. They had a big, rambling house up the street from us, set behind a morbid façade of pine trees, and surrounded by scooters, tricycles, doll carriages, toy fire trucks, baseball bat, badminton nets, croquet wickets, hamster cages and cocker spaniel puppies--the whole sprawling paraphernalia of suburban childhood.

apologized for smell of child's urine pot, which he held up, covered, said she'd been sick. Rooted

turned and grinned at the littlest, with big brown eyes and peeling nose, pink and brown patches of skin, tow head, husky voice; he catapulted back into a bank of dry seaweed on the afterdeck and the other little boys laughed; big, bright awake eyes, dancing, merry; curious, and shy too; patched faded overalls; lean and brown and agile; pokes and fisticuffs. Mice and squirrel and cocker spaniel faces.

When you were old, did your memories crowd out your other thoughts? Or did you lose them—your childhood, your hated enemies, your friends?

Nog vore det skojigt för det lilla barnet att få ett litet syskon alltid. Ja, titta inte på mig, svarade Gudrun, Nu är det allt din tur!

If there was one thing from which people never recovered, it was childhood. If there was one tie that could never truly be broken, for good or for ill, it was to family.

Does your ma know you're this silly? she demanded tartly. He nodded, comically sad. The few gray hairs she has on her head are my doing. But — with an exaggerated change of mood — I send her plenty of money, so she can pay to have them dyed! I hope she beat you as a child, Onua grumbled.

Sandry: I am silly, now and then. My mother said I was, anyway. Daja: If you know, you can stop it. Sandry: Then you've never been silly or you'd know it just creeps up without any warning.

The only way we learn how adults act is from the adults who raised us. The children of monsters become monstrous, too.

Your childhood sun-corner is where you are when the call sounds.

So this conscious search for a 'solid' irrefutably defined basic (and therefore 'limited') kit of words drew me inevitably towards the solid irrefutably defined basic kit of my experiences – drew me towards animals, basically: my childhood and adolescent pantheon of wild creatures, which were saturated by first hand intense feeling that went back to my infancy. Those particular subjects, in a sense, were the models on which I fashioned my workable language.

Especially those of us who have had a difficult childhood report a chronic, painful inability to avoid overstimulation (Aron 1996).

The best thing a parent of a newly diagnosed child can do is to watch their child without preconceived notions and judgements and learn how the child functions, acts, and reacts to his or her world.

Somebody said once or wrote, once: 'We're all of us children in a vast kindergarten trying to spell God's name with the wrong alphabet blocks!

I saw that it was all over, put away in a box like a doll no longer cared for, the magical intimacy of our childhood together

Love was truly a spectacular, sacred thing. Anthony knew that. He'd seen it every day of his childhood, every time his parents had shared a glance or touched hands. But love was the enemy of the dying man. It was the only thing that could make the rest of his years intolerable - to taste bliss and know that it would all be snatched away.

Only because Gregory put a toad in my bed last night," Daphne bit off, "and Benedict's standing has never recovered from the time he beheaded my favorite doll.

There was a very slight lilt to it, too, attesting to a childhood spent far from Lincolnshire, and Grace felt herself sway, as if she could fall forward, lightly, softly, and land somewhere else. Far, far from here.

Your mother swears you were sleeping through the night by your second month, but she was feeding you some god-awful concoction of Karo syrup and condensed milk. That's got to be enough calories to stun an ox, let alone an eight-week-old." "I've seen pictures. I looked like a prize porker headed for the Washington County Fair.

Jack made a face. "But can you imagine what it's like when you're six years old and the teacher says 'Liddle, John' at roll call? It took me years to get past the Robin Hood jokes.

You may have tangible wealth untold; Casketes of jewels and coffers of gold, Richer than I you can never be— I had a Mother who read to me. —STRICKLAND GILLIAN