Quotes About Childhood

It isn't wise to be rude to one's mother. She knows everything about your childhood that is potentially embarassing.

When I grew up there wasn't air-conditioning or anything of that nature, and this old car had a wall thickness of about ten inches. So we had a little warmer house in the winter and a little cooler in the summer.

Ser menino é estar cheio de céu por cima.

Em criança não nos despedimos dos lugares. Pensamos que voltamos sempre. Acreditamos que nunca é a última vez.

Ser menino é estar ceio de céu por cima.

Pfefferkuchenhaus

Remembering the fatherless feeling, the longing to be picked up and tossed into the air and caught with a laugh, and carried on a shoulder ride as his father-protector strode fearless through the world.

He liked the fog, the world quietened down and closed in. Glossy turned to matt, every stridency was muted, substance leached out of the brute matter all around. Things became notions, the brash present a vague memory. By some parallel process of slippage, his innumerable childhood memories of foggy days morphed into other memories. The fog of illness, real or feigned, of fevers and flu and febrility.

Once when he was slapping me back and forth, one hand holding my neck, the other whipping across my cheeks, I caught a glimpse of a picture of him on the mantel – ten years old in a Cub Scout uniform. He looked so proud; his grin was so sweet. Freckles, bright eyes, combed hair still wet. Adorable. I wanted to ask him; how did you grow up to be who you are? Who taught you to hit?

Marxists interpreted everything in terms of class; Freudians in terms of childhood; and feminists in terms of gender.

On the collector card that came with chocolate frogs

Privet Drive

4 Privet Drive

The lake i had grown up on was protected by thousands of acres of private forests. It kept out the reality of a harsher world and surrounded me with fun and privilege

Developing diabetes in childhood appears to cut life expectancy by about twenty years.32 Who among us wouldn't go to the ends of the earth to enable our kids to live two decades longer?

And I don't believe that children are innocent. In fact, no one seriously believes that. Just go to a playground and watch the kids playing in the sandbox! The romantic notion of the sweet child is simply the parents projecting their own wishes.

It isn't easy to teach students to be citizens, capable of thinking critically about the world around them, when so much of childhood consists of basic training for a consumer society.

I rememeber one time we were getting ready to go to South America and everything was packed up and in the car ready to go and I hid and I was crying because I really did not want to go, I wanted to play. I did not want to go.

Hunt had thought of the name while watching his children playing with one of the hot novelties of the period, the Wham-O company's high-bouncing Super Ball.

When you're a child the world forbears you, allows you your flights of imagination, your feelings of specialness. But sooner or later the privileges are withdrawn, and all you're left with is a stunned bitterness at the realisation that you're just the same as everybody else.

Grace began to understand. "I have friends," she protested. "I have Zaddie." "Zaddie is just a little colored girl," Mary-Love pointed out. "It's all right to play with Zaddie, but she's not your real friend. John Robert can be your real little friend.

When clients tell me how much they suffered from the actions of family members, my first question to their conscious mind is, "If you had not been exposed to this person as a child, what would you now lack in understanding?" It may take a while, but the answer is in our minds. There are spiritual reasons for our being raised as children around certain kinds of people, just as other people are designated to be near us as adults.

For we live with those retrievals from childhood that coalesce and echo throughout our lives, the way shattered pieces of glass in a kaleidoscope reappear in new forms and are songlike in their refrains and rhymes, making up a single monologue. We live permanently in the recurrence of our own stories, whatever story we tell.

My mom would be leaving the house and she'd say, 'Don't you pull out all of the old dresses in the attic and put on a show again!' And the door would close, and that's exactly what I'd do. The show was calling me!