Quotes About Childhood

What interests me about the eyes is that they are part of the body that doesn't age. In other words, if one looks for ones childhood across all the signs of aging in the body, the deterioration of musculature, the whitening of the hair, changes in height and weight, one can find one's childhood in the look of the eyes.

La cometa es una niña de viento que desde el cielo le enseña a un niño a volar en los espacios del suelo.

When Hiram Cater was seven years old his serious education began, not in spelling or arithmetic but in the brutal tactics of survival in a white world.

When you're a kid, everything has a question mark at the end of it. Only later do they turn into periods. Or even exclamation points. "Will I get over this?" becomes "It's too late." Becomes "I can't get over this!

Children laugh an average of 300 times a day. Adults on average…five times a day. What else is there? TABLE OF CONTENTS 1. 

For instance, you can say, "I know you might not trust me. I know you have had bad dealings in the past. I know you've had a hard childhood and this is the only way to make money." They will say, "That's right." And once you have empathy with them, you can be a little more insistent on what it is you want.

Oedipus did not remember the thongs that bound his feet; nevertheless the marks they left testified to that doom toward which his feet were leading him. The man does not remember the hand that struck him, the darkness that frightened him, as a child; nevertheless, the hand and the darkness remain with him, indivisible from himself forever, part of the passion that drives him wherever he thinks to take flight.

A child cannot, thank Heaven, know how vast and how merciless is the nature of power, with what unbelievable cruelty people treat each other. He reacts to the fear in his parents' voices because his parents hold up the world for him and he has no protection without them.

The man does not remember the hand that struck him, the darkness that frightened him, as a child; nevertheless, the hand and darkness remain with him, indivisible from himself forever, part of the passion that drives him wherever he thinks to take flight.

The sunlight came into the room with the peacefulness one remembers from rooms in one's early childhood—a sunlight encountered later only in one's dreams.

Every effort made by the child's elders to prepare him for a fate from which they cannot protect him causes him secretly, in terror, to begin to await, without knowing that he is doing so, his mysterious and inexorable punishment. He must be "good" not only in order to please his parents and not only to avoid being punished by them; behind their authority stands another, nameless and impersonal, infinitely harder to please, and bottomlessly cruel.

I was often allowed to watch them drink their cocktails.

John looked with a child's impenetrable gravity into the preacher's face, as though he were turning this question over in his mind and would answer when he had thought it

Every effort made by the child's elders to prepare him for a fate from which they cannot protect him causes him secretly, in terror, to begin to await, without knowing that he is doing so, his mysterious and inexorable punishment. He must be "good" not only in order to please his parents and not only to avoid being punished by them; behind their authority stands another, nameless and

Holston asked a class of nine-year-old children, most of whom lived in superquadra, to draw a picture of "home." Not one drew an apartment building of any kind. All drew, instead, a traditional freestanding house with windows, a central door, and a pitched roof.

Books and I went back. My old man taught me to read at age three-and-a-half. I bloomed into a classic only child/child-of-divorce autodidact.

Serial killers were hopped-up eyeball fuckers and ravaged inner children. They were scary in the moment and as dismissible as an empty box of popcorn.

On the other couch a women sits with a young boy looking through a picture book about Babar the Elephant. When I find a magazine and I lean back to start reading it, I can see the women watching me out of the corner of her eye. She moves closer to the child and she leans over and kisses his forehead. I know why she does it and i don't blame her.

In a childhood full of unhappiness and rage, Babar is one of the few pleasant memories i have. Me and Babar, kicking some motherfucking ass.

The initial trauma of a young child may go underground but it will return to haunt us.

I have six siblings but grew up an only child. I was adopted by my aunt and uncle.

I am very much an only child, meaning I am self-reliant, egocentric, sociable. I had my mother, father, and an uncle who lived with us, all doting on me.

My uncle was a second father to me. I spent most of my childhood with him.

Growing up, my uncle had a snake and I always thought they were really interesting.