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Childhood Memories Quotes

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Childhood Memories Quotes

“The world of Mark Twain seems so very far away from us. Today that half-wild innocent America of his childhood memories is a lost continent, sunk forever under those arid deserts of asphalt, those oceans of poison sludge, those mountains of technological garbage which are the monuments of the human dilemma we like to call progress. It’s nice though to catch a glimpse of things as they used to be... a landscape painted in words to bring us back for a moment, to that early morning of the American day so blithe and free when we were still on speaking terms with Mother Earth.”

NostalgiaAmerican HistoryMother EarthChildhood MemoriesMark Twain
Author:Orson Welles
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“Remove this quote from your collection “किताबों से निकल कर तितलियाँ ग़ज़लें सुनाती हैं टिफ़िन रखती है मेरी माँ तो बस्ता मुस्कुराता है kitāboñ se nikal kar titliyāñ ġhazleñ sunātī haiñ tiffin rakhtī hai merī maañ to basta muskurātā hai”

ChildhoodMothers DayChildhood MemoriesMothers LoveChildren S Day Quotes
Book:Chand Baitha Hua Hai Pahlu Mein
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“This whole, crazy fucking business can be reduced to one little word, one word explains it all. I'm going to give you the benefit of my experience and share that word with you, buck. It's revenge.... Them studio execs, agents, producers, they're all sweaty, unpopular, bitter little fucks, and now it's their turn. They get to make all of us golden boys and girls jump through hoops. They decide who's popular and who isn't, who's pretty and who isn't, who gets their phone calls returned and who doesn't. They make us grovel, submit, suck up to them. They're getting back at us, man. It means more to them than the money, the fame, the glamor, having power over guys like me.... It's what they live for.”

High SchoolRevengeChildhood MemoriesGolden GirlsUnpopularityGolden Boys
Book:The Boy Who Never Grew Up
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“बचपन की यादें, बचपन की समझ लिए रहती हैं। बादमें उनपर जितने रंग चढ़ाओ मगर वे तो उस रंगरेज को अपनी स्मृति सौंप चुकी होती हैं, जो पक्के रंग चढ़ाने में माहिर है।”

MemoriesChildhoodMemoryChildhood Memories
Book:आई डोन्ट लाइक यू
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“The instructions read, ‘Dump the monkeys onto the table. Pick up one monkey by the arm. Hook another arm through a second monkey’s arm. Continue making a chain. Your turn is over when you drop a monkey.’ Most of my childhood life at the house on Arce Subdivision had been like that, constantly linking monkeys together and anticipating something going wrong.”

ChildhoodChildhood MemoriesChildhood QuotesChildhood Memoir
Book:Batangas: My Sky and Earth
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“A Gathering of Frogs by Stewart Stafford Through the fence with friends, And into the back field frontier, Past the growing pile of lumber, Shivers for the Halloween bonfire. Down the slope to a boundary hedge, Rusty bathtub lying like a crime scene, And into the deepening marsh beyond, For the ritual kidnapping of frogspawn. Frogs leap through reeds and tall grass, The bulbous jelly of many eyes located, Scooped surgically into a container, Up to our fort to study our live plunder. Tongues of smoke from our twig fire, On the derelict path between estates, Crisps consumed in the darkening chill, Then, satiated, a walk home for dinner. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

KidsChildhoodAdventureMemoryFrogsChildhood MemoriesChildhood FriendsChildhood MemoryFrogMarsh
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Childhood is the period when we are full of dreams. We jump, we fly and we soar. It is almost as if wings have been implanted on us and we are rocketing and gliding in the sky. Sometimes, we reach the stars, sometimes we talk to the moon and at other times we swing on the rainbow. And these dreams are unidirectional, that is, we learn only to aspire and hope; without even wondering there could be any stop to our flights of fantasy.”

DreamsChildhoodWingsChildhood MemoriesNeelam Saxena Chandra Quotes
Book:Lines of Fate: First Love and Other Stories
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“Ablamın verdiği terbiye beni çekingen, içli bir çocuk yapmıştı. Kimin tarafından yetiştirilirse yetiştirilsin, bir çocuğun küçücük evreninde en derinden sezilen, en ince algılanan şey, haksızlıktır. Çocuğa yapılan haksızlık küçücük bir şey olabilir. Ne var ki çocuk da, çocuğun dünyası da küçücüktür; bu ölçüler içinde çocuğun tahta atı en iri küheylanların boyundadır. Ablamın o esintili, hırslı baskısıyla bana haksızlık ettiğini, kendimi bildiğimden beri biliyordum.”

ChildhoodInjusticeChildhood Memories
Book:Great Expectations
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“Snow is...a beautiful reminder of life and all its quirks. It makes me pause. Think. Stay still. Even my mind takes the hint. It makes me feel giddy. Like a kid. I bring my hot cocoa to the window and simply sit and reminisce...It brings me back to days of school cancellations and snow igloos and King of the Mountain games in my childhood neighborhood...That for this one moment in time, I’m not an adult with all the headaches that can accompany that responsibility, but instead, I’m still the girl in pigtails with the handmade hat and mittens, just waiting to build her next snowman.”

ChildhoodSnowChildhood MemoriesKidSnowmanReminiscePigtailsKing Of The HillSnow Storm
Author:R.B. O'Brien
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“A lifetime of memories does not provide empirical proof of the value of living. No one memory has a quantifiable value to anyone expect the holder of the memory. Parenting in large part consists of creating positive memories for children. An accumulation of a lifetime of memories does create a musical score that we can assess from an artistic if not scientific perspective. Each happy memory generates a beat of minor joy that when strung together form the musical notes demarking a person’s prosodic inner tune.”

PastRememberMemoriesChildhoodParentingMemoryNostalgiaHappiness QuotesRemembranceParents And ChildrenRecollectionRememberingChildhood MemoriesMemories QuotesMemory QuoteHappiness QuotationsHappy MemoriesSpecial MomentsRecollectionsSmall PleasuresSpecial MomentRecollectPast TimesSpecial Memories
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“People ask me where I got my x-ray powers. I inherited them from my parents in parental supervision. Erase the dots and your doubts if you think that I was 'raysed' alone.”

ChildhoodHumorousRaisedParanormalAutobiographySupernaturalChildhood MemoriesPunWordplayTelepathySupervisionThird EyePunsPlay On WordsAutobiographicalX RayEnlightmentSuper PowersFigurativeHomographicHomophonicRethoricalX Ray Vision
Book:The Tao of Physical and Spiritual
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“As soon as Peter took off his coat and saw what his grandmother had cooked, he ran straight to the table and climbed into ‘his’ place – a large, sturdy wooden armchair with a small stool set on top of it. He bit eagerly into the pasty, taking large mouthfuls and greedily washing them down with milk. At one moment, the boy moved a little too abruptly, and a thin stream of warm milk escaped from the corner of his mouth, slid between cheek and chin, slipped under his collar, and disappeared on his chest, gently warming his skin. Peter wiped the spilled milk with his sleeve, took another pasty – then another, and another… Years later, this moment – so full of bright childhood sensations – would return to him night after night, haunting the hungry Peter, tormenting both soul and body in his sleep. Repeated endlessly, the dream would turn into suffering – a symbol of doom and unrealized hopes. And even within this seemingly kind dream, a Damoclean sword would hang over his mind: the impossibility, the futility of ever turning it into reality. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Two Context note: A memory of warmth, abundance, and family love that later becomes a recurring dream for a starving prisoner. The contrast reveals how childhood comfort turns into psychological torment under hunger and repression.”

HappinessChildhoodMemoryHungerNostalgiaFamily LoveChildhood MemoriesHappiness In LifeLoss Of HopeHuman Resilience
Book:Камінь. Біографічний роман. Книга друга. Непрості дороги до пекла: Виживання в умовах насильства.
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“The wildflowers she waded through were those she recognized from her youth. Chicory, Queen Anne's lace, and black-eyed Susans. An apple tree she and Phoebe had planted by the pond when they were both small had grown into a monster. Though it was only the middle of June, the branches were dripping with fruit. Rather than red or green, the apples were a purple so deep it almost looked black. Brigid plucked one off the tree and took a bite. The flesh underneath was a brilliant white.”

NatureMagicalChildhood MemoriesApple Tree
Book:The Women of Wild Hill
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“She started to head out, but she passed her room. It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home. The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye; it now rested in front of her mirror. Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder. She wanted to hold it, to put it in her hair and show her family- to show everyone- she was worthy. After all, her surname, Fa, meant flower. She needed to show them that she had bloomed to be worthy of her family name. But no one was here, and she didn't want to face her reflection. Who knew what it would show, especially in Diyu? She isn't a boy, her mother had told her father once. She shouldn't be riding horses and letting her hair loose. The neighbors will talk. She won't find a good husband- Let her, Fa Zhou had consoled his wife. When she leaves this household as a bride, she'll no longer be able to do these things. Mulan hadn't understood what he meant then. She hadn't understood the significance of what it meant for her to be the only girl in the village who skipped learning ribbon dances to ride Khan through the village rice fields, who chased after chickens and helped herd the cows instead of learning the zither or practicing her painting, who was allowed to have opinions- at all. She'd taken the freedom of her childhood for granted. When she turned fourteen, everything changed. I know this will be a hard change to make, Fa Li had told her, but it's for your own good. Men want a girl who is quiet and demure, polite and poised- not someone who speaks out of turn and runs wild about the garden. A girl who can't make a good match won't bring honor to the family. And worse yet, she'll have nothing: not respect, or money of her own, or a home. She'd touched Mulan's cheek with a resigned sigh. I don't want that fate for you, Mulan. Every morning for a year, her mother tied a rod of bamboo to Mulan's spine to remind her to stand straight, stuffed her mouth with persimmon seeds to remind her to speak softly, and helped Mulan practice wearing heeled shoes by tying ribbons to her feet and guiding her along the garden. Oh, how she'd wanted to please her mother, and especially her father. She hadn't wanted to let them down. But maybe she hadn't tried enough. For despite Fa Li's careful preparation, she had failed the Matchmaker's exam. The look of hopefulness on her father's face that day- the thought that she'd disappointed him still haunted her. Then fate had taken its turn, and Mulan had thrown everything away to become a soldier. To learn how to punch and kick and hold a sword and shield, to shoot arrows and run and yell. To save her country, and bring honor home to her family. How much she had wanted them to be proud of her.”

HonorReflectionBedroomChildhood MemoriesWho Am ITomboyMulan
Book:Reflection
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“The broth was nearly clear and colorless, singing with notes of the sea- and Belle had never actually been to the sea. When she broke her bread to dip, the crust shattered, the crumb inside moist to the point of almost being a custard. The terrine was so rich she managed only one tiny demitasse spoonful. She and her father didn't eat fancily but they ate well enough and even had meat once or twice a week. The herbs that still flourished in her mother's garden spiced up dishes more than it seemed like they should have. They supped well, like all Frenchmen and women. But even Christmas was nothing compared to this. Belle suddenly realized she was shoveling it all in like a character from one of those stories who was tricked into eating magic food until he exploded or grew too large to escape. And a slightly more down-to-earth part of her spoke up warningly, in what she liked to pretend was her mother's voice: You are, at the very least, going to have an extremely upset stomach from this rich new food.”

Self ConsciousChildhood MemoriesBelleFather And DaughterTastes
Book:As Old as Time
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“Coming back to the village through the snow, under the dark cloudy skies, Belle felt like she had been away for a lifetime. She had, in fact, never left the village by herself before this. There were a couple of overnight trips to fairs with her father, and once or twice during mushroom season they got swept up in the fury and spent a few nights in the forest, gathering morels and truffles and camping out. But that was all, and always with Papa.”

MushroomsChildhood MemoriesBelleMauriceFather And Daughter
Book:As Old as Time
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“My blissful childhood was shattered without warning when I was about ten years old. One day, my father told me that he had spent seventeen years of his life in prisons, Gulag labor camps, and internal exile. At that moment, his confession became the greatest shock I had ever experienced. “My father — the kindest and wisest man on earth — and suddenly this?” I refused to believe my own ears. But my dad did not stop at the bare fact. He spoke of hunger, of cruelty, of utter powerlessness — and of his own horrific existence within a totalitarian, inhuman system. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One. Author's Preface Context note: This passage comes from the author’s preface and reflects a real childhood revelation that became the moral and emotional foundation of the novel. Learning that his father had survived years of prisons, labor camps, and exile under the Soviet totalitarian system, the author transformed personal memory into a literary quest to understand repression, trauma, and human endurance.”

MemoirSoviet UnionChildhood MemoriesFamily HistoryGenerational TraumaGulagPolitical RepressionAutobiographical FictionHistorical TraumaMoralawakening
Book:Камень. Биографический роман: Часть первая. Первые шаги к свету и обратно
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“I smiled at him. But my mind was somewhere else. Running through memories of me and my childhood best friend. At how he looked at me, talked to me, laughed with me, and anything else he did with me. Then I remembered his words. "Because in a braking world, you're still the one I would look for, no matter what." I knew he never truly said he loved me, maybe thought about it, but never said it. And if he ever gave a clue to it. I always ignored them.”

Childhood MemoriesAbigailbosticKingdomofshadows
Author:Abigail Bostic
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