“In the past we believed both sexes were born with original sin. Today, we have come to unconsciously believe in the original sin of boys, but the original innocence of girls.” BelieveTodayPastGirlSexBornSinBoysOriginalsInnocenceOriginal Sin Author:Warren Farrell
“Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed.” YearsPastNightBoysCarFrontsColorBearsBirdRedYears AgoHorseHillsWheelsSundayAfternoonCavesAll NightMotorWalesHarpsDampParlorDuchessDaftFlannelsSunday AfternoonsMotor CarsDeacons Book:A Child's Christmas in Wales Source: A Child's Christmas in Wales
“...Baltimore. It's imperfect. Boy, is it imperfect. And there are parts of its past that make you wince. It's not all marble steps and waitresses calling you 'hon,' you know. Racial strife in the sixties, the riots during the Civil War. F. Scott Fitzgerald said it was civilized and gay, rotted and polite. The terms are slightly anachronistic now, but I think he was essentially right.” ThinkingKnowsSaidWarPastTermStepsBoysCallingGayCivil WarCivilizedImperfectSixtyPoliteStrifeRiotMarbleWaitressBaltimoreWinceScott FitzgeraldDuring The Civil War Author:Laura Lippman
“When the father dies, he writes, the son becomes his own father and his own son. He looks at is son and sees himself in the face of the boy. He imagines what the boy sees when he looks at him and finds himself becoming his own father. Inexplicably, he is moved by this. It is not just the sight of the boy that moves him, not even the thought of standing inside his father, but what he sees in the boy of his own vanished past. It is a nostalgia for his own life that he feels, perhaps, a memory of his own boyhood as a son to his father.” FeelsWritingLooksPastFacesMovingDiesFatherMemoriesBoysImagineSonBecomingStandingSightMovedNostalgiaBoyhood Book:The Invention of Solitude Source: The Invention of Solitude
“Tears came to my eyes when I read of a mere boy in one of our eastern cities who noticed a vagrant asleep on a sidewalk and who then went to his own room, retrieved his own pillow, and placed it beneath the head of that one whom he knew not. Perhaps there came from the precious past the welcome words: 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me' (Matt. 25:40).” DoneEyePastRoomsCitiesBoysTearsMereWelcomeEasternPillowBrethrenSidewalkVagrants Author:Thomas S. Monson
“Ah, Christ, I love you rings to the wild sky And I must think a little of the past: When I was ten I told a stinking lie That got a black boy whipped.” ThinkingLittlesPastLyingBlackChristBoysSkyLove YouTenGuiltRingsChristmasBlack Boy Book:Collected Poems, 1919-1976 Source: Collected Poems, 1919-1976