Quotes About Childhood

With the approach of age the soul flies like a bird back to the days of childhood. Now those days shine bright and clear in my memory until it seems as if everything then must have been better, lovelier than in the world of today. In this rich and poor do not differ, for there is surely none so destitute but his childhood shows some glint of happiness when he remembers it in age.

No hay ciertamente nadie, por pobre que sea, cuya infancia no encierre algún destello de júbilo y de luz al evocarla en sus viejos días

I grew up in Huntsville, Alabama, a thoroughly dedicated rocket town. The father of everyone I knew—mine included—was some sort of engineer working to build the Apollo rockets to send men to the moon. For a while as a child, I thought that when you grew up you became a rocket engineer if you were a boy and you married a rocket engineer if you were a girl; few other options in the world appeared to exist.

After 'cat', Lilah next learned 'flower'. Flowers (scrunch up nose as if sniffing) were everywhere, first only outside on plants, but soon she generalized to flowers on her clothes or her shoes, or in pictures in books and magazines. I wanted to hook up wires and do experiments and comparisons and studies to understand it all. 'You want to do what?' Diane would say. But really, who wouldn't?

When you were a little kid, remember how hard it was to get a cookie? Way in the back, unless your mom was really mean: Then they'd be on top of the refrigerator. Nowhere, any place on a package of Oreos does it say, "Keep out of reach of small children." Where was the Liquid Drano? Under the sink, right next to the rest of the poisons.

Anticipate the day as if it was your birthday and you are turning six again.

We children moved constantly in a world where myth and fable walked hand in hand with reality, and the borderline between them was at all times nebulous and shifting. The violent world of fairytale with its Bluebeards and shirts made from thistles wasn't that far from ours.

My dad sold encyclopedias and my mom worked in a factory office.

featured an eight-year-old boy who saved his friend who was choking to death. When asked where he learned the Heimlich, he said, "It was on a poster on The Simpsons." True story.

My parents still treat Christmas like I'm thirteen years old.

I grew up painting and playing piano so when I was a little kid I thought I was going to be an artist or a painter but my mom had me taking piano lessons for about 10-12 years as a young kid.

She grabbed his arm. "Let it be, son!" she cried. "That child ain't hurt!" "Not hurt! You look into her eyes and tell me she ain't hurt!

My dad says I could sing before I could talk, if that's possible. I was always humming and things like that.

Education, like neurosis, begins at home.

I feel lucky because I was a nerd, which I talk about in the book, but I had academic success, so through that, because that's what my parents put a great deal of value on, I had a great childhood because I sort of fulfilled the expectations of being good at school.

When I was a little kid, I wrote this play about all these characters living in a haunted house. There was a witch who lived there, and a mummy. When they were all hassling him, this guy who bought the house - I can't believe I remember this - he said to them, 'Who's paying the mortgage on this haunted house?' I thought that was really funny.

When I was a kid, my parents smartly raised us to keep quiet, be respectful to older people, and generally not question adults all that much. I think that's because they were assuming that 99 percent of the time, we'd be interacting with worthy, smart adults... They didn't ever tell me 'Sometimes you will meet idiots who are technically adults and authority figures. You don't have to do what they say.

At the age of six, the criteria for handsome was simply: "Is he not related to me?" and "Have I seen him on television?" That was it. By this standard, Larry Bird, Dick Clark, and Andy Rooney. All handsome guys.

It's sort of my go-to stock image of my childhood, actually. I think it has something to do with knowing I'll never be able to go back to that time that makes me cry every time I listen to it.

As a kid, I was curious but not remotely adventurous, if that makes sense.

I had read the baby books, of course, but could remember literally nothing but one fact: "babies are born without kneecaps." What the hell was I supposed to do with that information?

we loved reenacting what we saw. The Church Lady's catchphrases were our catchphrases, and we repeated them until my mother said, exasperated: "Please stop saying 'Isn't that special?' in that strange voice. It is annoying to me and to others." At

In my entire life, I never once heard either of my parents say they were stressed. That was just not a phrase I grew up being allowed to say. That, and the concept of "Me time".

Fueling my fight against my dad's wishes was my enormous dislike of bikes. Bikes were horrible. Bikes always seemed to be scratching against my legs, or the spoke was poking me or something. Pebbles ended up in my ankle socks when I was on a bike. The seat felt sharp and hurt my crotch. The bike represented everything annoying and uncomfortable in my young life.