Quotes About Childhood

Suddenly, she gave a little half-smile and whispered dreamily; "When I was a little girl, here for the summer, I used to ride my bicycle to Mass." I know; the Karê wanted to say. I used to watch you.

One more game," somebody behind her said, and somebody else said, "But who's going to be It?

?sviçre da?lar?ndakine benzeyen o mavi sisi an?ms?yor ve biliyorum. Bu sis, çocuklu?un bitmek üzere oldu?u o kayg?s?z dönemde her ?eyin üstünü kaplar ve o çok büyük, mutlu, ne?eli dairenin içinden gittikçe daralan bir yol ç?kar, ???kl? ve güzel görünse de bu dar yola girmek hem keyifli, hem de müthi? bir ?eydir.

No little boy likes to be called a little man, but any little boy likes to be treated as a little man, and this is what Marian had done for me: at times, and when she had wanted to, she had endowed me with the importance of a grown-up; she had made me feel that she depended on me. She, more than anyone, had puffed me up.

Joe Willie was a perfect child," Marjorie Simpson said. "We never had any trouble with him.

When I was four I asked my mother for a valet for my birthday.

Can we mothers of boys hope to raise thoughtful, supportive, caring helpmates for the female achievers of tomorrow? Or are they, at age 5, or at birth, already too far gone? Where did those guys come upon their obsession with wiggling and wheels and weapons, their passion for He-Man and hockey?

From the moment of birth, when the Stone Age baby confronts the twentieth-century mother, the baby is subjected to these forces of violence, called love, as its mother and father, and their parents and their parents before them, have been. These forces are mainly concerned with destroying most of its potentialities, and on the whole this enterprise is successful.

Once upon a time, a little girl was raised by monsters. But angels burned the doorways to their world, and she was all alone.

I'm lucky I'm even alive," she announced. "When I was little, I sucked on duck eyeballs.

Good little girls don't stab their nurses and drag toddlers over their corpses in order to save their lives. Good little girls don't kill. They die. And Minya was not a good little girl.

Eril-Fane let out a slow breath. "Were you afraid of the dark as a child?" A chill snaked up Lazlo's spine. He thought again of the crypt at the abbey, and the nights locked in with dead monks. "Yes," he said simply. "Even when you knew, rationally, that there was nothing in it that could harm you." "Yes." "Well. We are all children in the dark, here in Weep.

In the thick of play, his daydreams were so vivid that a glimpse of reality would have shocked him.

Érase una vez una niña que creció entre monstruos. Pero los ángeles incendiaron las puertas hacia su mundo, y ella quedó completamente sola.

All the bogeymen together, sitting down to tea.

She had been innocent once, a little girl playing with feathers on the floor of a devil's lair.

Durante un tiempo había sido una niña inocente que jugaba con plumas en el suelo de la guardia de un diablo. Sin embargo aquella inocencia había desaparecido.

Odinioara fusese plina de candoare , o fetita care se juca fara nicio grija cu niste pene pe podeaua barlogului unui diavol. Acum, nu mai era deloc inocenta.

Arata ca o papusa care , ani de-a randul , zacuse neiubita int-o lada cu jucarii.

Quando menino, no mosteiro, as histórias tinham sido a riqueza de Lazlo. Ele era mais rico agora. Agora ele tinha livros.

I was the worst, most sickly kid of all -- 30 pounds underweight. The girls used to beat me up. Actually I was a mean kid, early on because I had no self-esteem.

I dug Mad Magazine, my brain is wired to mock, and Mad just confirmed my world view since I was a kid (from an interview in the book Attitude, 2002)

Think what you would have been now, if instead of being fed with tales and old wives' fables in childhood, you had been crammed with geography and natural history!

What Chinese identity?" Ming shouts. To his horror, she looks, again, like a little girl. He sees her at six years old, standing on the playground, watching the sun shine on the blond hair of her classmates. He can't stand it. Even though he's been there, is familiar with the origins of self-hatred, knows he can't bear it because it reminds him of himself, he can't speak to her any more. He puts his headphones on and turns up the sound.