Trauma does not have to occur by abuse alone…

Resiliency is the essence of a global positive framework…

Resiliency is not gender-, age-, or intellectually specific…

All of us are products of our childhood.

The mind, placed before any kind of difficulty, can find an ideal outlet in the absurd. Accommodation to the absurd readmits adults to the mysterious realm inhabited by children.

People never grow up, they just learn how to act in public.

When you’re a kid, you tend to see the best in your mates. Because at least they’re not as bad as your parents.

A child is asleep. Her private life unwinds inside skin and skull; only as she sheds childhood, first one decade and then another, can she locate the actual, historical stream, see the setting of her dreaming private life—the nation, the city, the neighborhood, the house where the family lives—as an actual project under way, a...

Everything else you grow out of, but you never recover from childhood.

Flawed Human Parents + Shit Life Throws At You = Childhood That ‘Builds Character.

We cannot always build the future for our youth, but we can build our youth for the future.

Young boys should never be sent to bed. They always wake up a day older.

These were the moments that would stick in her memory for years to come, those instants of perfect bliss that nothing else would ever match again.

Most people, looking back at their childhood, see it as a misty country half-forgotten or only to be remembered through an evocative sound or scent, but some episodes of those short years remain clear and brightly coloured like a landscape seen through the wrong end of a telescope.

I have heard it said that a happy childhood is a curse, because what follows can never measure up. All I can say is, those people must want too much; they can’t accept that life is a series of struggles and that happiness can be found in overcoming them, drawing strength from the reserves laid...

He had also been demonstrative and intelligent from the very beginning, his questions startlingly insightful. She would watch him absorb a new idea and wonder what effect it would have on him, because, with Edgar, EVERYTHING came out, eventually, somehow. But the PROCESS – how he put together a story about the world’s workings –...

I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to have a childhood that was _not_ like mine. I have no real frame of reference, but when I question strangers I’ve found that their childhood generally had much less blood in it, and also that strangers seem uncomfortable when you question them about their childhood....

Chronologically she is twelve, but emotionally she is older, and intellectually older still.

I don’t want to be little again. But at the same time I do. I want to be me like I was then, and me as I am now, and me like I’ll be in the future. I want to be me and nothing but me. I want to be crazy as the moon, wild...

Do you remember the books from our childhood? Those were you could decide yourself what the character should do next?I always loved those books, getting to decide what will happen, being responsible for it.But did you ever decided for something, flipped to the page, read it and then thought: “No, I don’t want this to...

For in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.

A child can die even in the safest place on earth- its mother’s womb!

Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.

If a serious statement is defined as one that may be made in terms of waking life, poetry will never rise to the level of seriousness. It lies beyond seriousness, on that more primitive and original level where the child, the animal, the savage, and the seer belong, in the region of dream, enchantment, ecstasy,...

Memories of childhood were the dreams that stayed with you after you woke.

Nothing is more foreign than the world of one’s childhood when one has truly left it.

She had felt good for a few moments, racing across the face of the hill on her old bike, but the happy feeling had burned itself out and left behind a thin, cold rage. She was no longer entirely sure who she was angry with though. Her anger didn’t have a fixed point. It was...

Being a child is such a shining gift, yet we don’t know how precious it is until it’s worn out and gone away.

Bloom of adulthood. Try a whiff of that. On your back in the dark you remember. Ah you remember. Cloudless May day. She joins you in the little summerhouse. Entirely of logs. Both larch and fir. Six feet across. Eight from floor to vertex. Area twenty-four square feet to the furthest decimal. Two small multicoloured...

I thought I was in love with Leola, by which I meant that if I could have found her in a quiet corner, and if I had been certain that no one would ever find out, and if I could have summoned up the courage at the right moment, I would have kissed her. But,...

We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them.

Sometimes, when you were thinking about something, trying to understand it, it opened up in your head without you expecting it to, like it was a soft spongy light unfolding, and you understood, it made sense forever…

I have no complaints with the whole childhood acting thing, because I wanted to do it.

Fear isn’t so difficult to understand. After all, weren’t we all frightened as children? Nothing has changed since Little Red Riding Hood faced the big bad wolf. What frightens us today is exactly the same sort of thing that frightened us yesterday. It’s just a different wolf. This fright complex is rooted in every individual.

I think the closest thing to a time machine that I’ve ever found is the Children’s section of a library.

No teacher has the right to cure a child of making noises on a drum. The only curing that should be practiced is the curing of unhappiness.

It’s the poet we love in Caeiro, not the philosopher. What we really get from these poems is a childlike sense of life, with all the direct materiality of the child’s mind, and all the vital spirituality of hope and increase that exist in the body and soul of nescient childhood. Caeiro’s work is a...

Člověk se přirozeně nemůže od dětství osvobodit, aniž by se jím podrobně nezabýval, jak již dlouho víme z Freudových výzkumů. Čistě intelektuálním věděním přitom nelze ničeho dosáhnout. Účinné je pouze rozpomenutí se, které je zároveň znovuprožitím. Mnohé zůstane nevyřešené díky rychlému plynutí let a přemáhajícímu proudu věmů z právě odhalovaného světa. Od toho se člověk...

I have had playmates, I have had companions; In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days – All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

Childhood is the most valuable thing that’s taken away from you in life, if you think about it.

We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it, if it were not the earth where the same flowers come up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny fingers as we sat lisping to ourselves on the grass, the same hips and haws...

If we truly detach from our childhood and abandon our inherent romanticism, then we shred any bit of humanity left in us.

Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them.

Next generations will not know what is to have childhood.

We commonly see problems in adults that had been present since childhood but which take a toll on the heart over time.

I never felt more free in this world, than when I was five years old

For a child, it is in the simplicity of play that the complexity of life is sorted like puzzle pieces joined together to make sense of the world.

Her own dolls were either babies or storybook characters like Cinderella and Snow White who though past childhood were somehow not yet into the world, girls who kept themselves apart from the world without really knowing what for. Now girls know what for. They menstruate when they are ten, and their dolls are sluts.

A four-year-old has so little past, and he remembers almost none of it, neither the father he once had nor the house where he once lived. But he can feel the absences – and feel them as sensation, like a texture that was once at his fingers every day but now is gone and no...

A tale is told of twin boys born to different mothers.One is dark by nature, the other light. One is rich, the other poor. One is harsh, the other gentle. One is forever youthful, the other old before his time.One is mortal.They share no bond of blood or sympathy, but they are twins nonetheless.They each...