Best 24578 quotes in «children quotes» category

¿Salvar a una niña no era como salvar el mundo?

Save the children, save mankind.

Saying ‘no’ to your children can be an act of love.

Say my daughter and her boyfriend meet again. If they have a child, will it be Lucas? The odds are astronomically against it. If it doesn’t happen, Lucas will die without ever being born.

Scenes from the Playroom Now Lucy with her family of dolls Disfigures Mother with an emery board, While Charles, with match and rubbing alcohol, Readies the struggling cat, for Chuck is bored. The young ones pour more ink into the water Through which the latest goldfish gamely swims, Laughing, pointing at naked, neutered Father. The toy chest is a Buchenwald of limbs. Mother is so lovely; Father, so late. The cook is off, yet dinner must go on With onions as her only cause for tears She hacks the red meat from the slippery bone, Setting the table, where the children wait, Her grinning babies, clean behind the ears.

Say what you will, dear sister, we do what we do for the promise of our youth. Yet it is always they who scar beneath the points of daggers.

School children, who have enjoyed reading a romance or a detective thriller or a novel about terror and conquest, make the invariable mistake of studying literature in the college. They make the mistake of learning theory in place of art; they acquire impediments in their own enjoyment of the books by allowing a set of theories to govern their own reading.

Schooling that children are forced to endure—in which the subject matter is imposed by others and the “learning” is motivated by extrinsic rewards and punishments rather than by the children’s true interests—turns learning from a joyful activity into a chore, to be avoided whenever possible. Coercive schooling, which tragically is the norm in our society, suppresses curiosity and overrides children’s natural ways of learning. It also promotes anxiety, depression and feelings of helplessness that all too often reach pathological levels.

School in itself is a microcosm of society. These kids bring a lot of baggage with them, and as teachers with 30 plus kids in your classroom you have to take the time to get to know them, and not just see them as people you have to teach. And if they want to learn they will learn, and if they don’t want too then too bad. But you have to see them as your surrogate children. Charles Chuck Mackey, former vice principal and coach of R. M. Bailey Pacers…

schools assume that children are not interested in learning and are not much good at it, that they will not learn unless made to, that they cannot learn unless shown how, and that the way to make them learn is to divide up the prescribed material into a sequence of tiny tasks to be mastered one at a time, each with it's approrpriate 'morsel' and 'shock.' And when this method doesn't work, the schools assume there is something wrong with the children -- something they must try to diagnose and treat.

Seasons turned, apple blossoms blushed and withered, fruit swelled and dropped, snow fell and melted, and children grew to bear children of their own, to make mistakes of their own, to love and hate and fear on their own, to die by hunger, by volence, by the lure of the wider world. Promises were made, hearts were broken, and people twisted themselves around and around and around, the soft green tendrils of their dreams hardening into woody vines that could not bend but would some day break.

Secure attachment has been linked to a child's ability to successfully recover and prove resilient in the presence of a traumatic event.

Seed becomes tree, son becomes stranger.

See, I am very dependent... on beauty and peace of the world... on loyalty of friends... on love in families... on happiness and health of children. And I do not want to be free as long as I have it all...

Seldom have I seen children dissatisfied with the product they took from a philosophical discussion, even if it is only some modest philosophical distinction, for they recognize how before that acquisition they had even less. Children, unlike adults, do not look insistently for answers or conclusions. They look rather for the kind of transformation that philosophy provides – not giving a new answer to an old question, but transforming all the questions.

Setting a good example for children takes all the fun out of middle age.

Seuls les enfants solitaires peuvent contenir toute leur passion; les autres, à trop causer éventent leurs sentiments en public, les émoussent en vaines confidences.

Sex is an open secret parents try to hide to their children

Shall I confess it, Mr. Hartright? I sadly want a reform in the construction of children. Nature's only idea seems to be to make them machines for the production of incessant noise.

She allowed history to leave her without trying to hold it back, the way children allow a grand parade to pass, holding it in their memory, making it an unforgettable thing, making it their own

She could sense the fear and anxiety of babies and younger children upon meeting her for the first time; their wide eyed stares, fidgeting, and outright tantrums. Blaring like little homing beacons, they knew that Mallory wore a disguise to cover her wounds, and that they probably weren't safe. They were so very innocent and unblemished from the world, and saw straight through to her heart.  It was the real reason she preferred not to be in their company or head a classroom full of tiny ones, though she often told those who questioned her preference for teaching teenagers that she didn't like small children.  Children hated pain. It was rare that they wouldn't shy away from an adult whose heart was laden with it.

She came to him then and lifted her arms to be picked up, something he could not remember her doing for a long time-maybe two years. It was amazing how time got by, how quickly a child could change, change in front of your eyes with an unobtrusiveness that was nearly terrible.

She felt if she ever had children she would love them no less when they were twenty than when they were two; they might need you more at twenty, she thought. What do you really need when you're two? In the hospital, the babies were the easiest patients. The older they got, the more they needed; and the less anyone wanted or loved them.

She found herself wondering at what point in her life she had ceased to be Gulliver and had become the strings holding him to the ground.

She had been to her Great-Aunt Willoughby’s before, and she knew exactly what to expect. She would be asked about her lessons, and how many marks she had, and whether she had been a good girl. I can’t think why grownup people don’t see how impertinent these questions are. Suppose you were to answer: “I’m the top of my class, auntie, thank you, and I am very good. And now let us have a little talk about you, aunt, dear. How much money have you got, and have you been scolding the servants again, or have you tried to be good and patient, as a properly brought up aunt should be, eh, dear?” Try this method with one of your aunts next time she begins asking you questions, and write and tell me what she says.

She had loved them all, her children. Loved each one the best, but for different reasons.

She hadn’t dreamed a time would ever come when someone might want to emulate her talk or behavior. Consequently, it made her feel tight and strange inside to hear her words on the kid’s lips. A small part of her was astonished and secretly flattered. But a larger part was appalled.

She had that look a child has only a few times in its life, when the child has bettered her betters. The expression isn't smug, though adults often take it for smugness. It's something else. Maybe relief at having confirmed through personal experience the long-held suspicion of our species, that the enchanted world of childhood is merely a mask for something else, a more subtle and paradoxical magic. - p. 157

She has to have four arms, four legs, four eyes, two hearts, and double the love. There is nothing “single” about a single mom.

She had to quickly pop back to the fifteenth century to find a word for how beautiful he was. The boy was makeless.

She juts out her lower jaw, a purposeful imitation of Daddy Eric when she asks him a question with an answer that isn't yes right away, but will be yes eventually if she waits long enough.

She loved me, in some mysterious sense I understood without her speaking it. I was her creation. We were one thing, like the wall and the rock growing out from it. -- Or so I ardently, desperately affirmed. When her strange eyes burned into me, it did not seem quite sure. I was intensely aware of where I sat, the volume of darkness I displaced, the shiny-smooth span of packed dirt between us, and the shocking separateness from me in my mama's eyes. I would feel, all at once, alone and ugly, almost - as if I'd dirtied myself - obscene.

She moved to pinch me again but I blocked her hand. I'm no expert on girls, but when one tries to pinch you four times, I'm pretty sure that's flirting.

She loved them so much that she felt a kind of hollowness on the inner surface of her arms whenever she looked at them- an ache of longing to pull them close and hold them tight against her.

She lay outside in the courtyard, staring up at the raindrops… feeling them hit her body… trying to guess where one would land next. The nuns called again, threatening that pneumonia might make an insufferably headstrong child a lot less curious about nature.

She meant well. But knew nothing about children and the anguish they suffered.

She realized children shouldn't be thought of as mere post-mortem media storage sites, but really, where on earth was she going to unload all her earthly crap if not upon someone biologically required to care?

She’s at least one thing that’s right, going forward. Building a generation is like building a wall - one good, well-made brick at a time, one good, well-made child at a time. Enough good bricks, you have a good wall. Enough good children, you have a generation that won’t start a world enveloping war.” (79%)

She says I shall now have one mouth the more to fill and two feet the more to shoe, more disturbed nights, more laborious days, and less leisure or visiting, reading, music, and drawing. Well! This is one side of the story, to be sure, but I look at the other. Here is a sweet, fragrant mouth to kiss; here are two more feet to make music with their pattering about my nursery. Here is a soul to train for God; and the body in which it dwells is worth all it will cost, since it is the abode of a kingly tenant. I may see less of friends, but I have gained one dearer than them all, to whom, while I minister in Christ's name, I make a willing sacrifice of what little leisure for my own recreation my other darlings had left me. Yes, my precious baby, you are welcome to your mother's heart, welcome to her time, her strength, her health, her tenderest cares, to her lifelong prayers! Oh, how rich I am, how truly, how wondrously blest!

She slipped from her tall chair (why don't we remember living in a world where everything was absurdly outsize, tables and chairs and spoons, door knobs too high to reach, too fat to grasp?) and went to look.

She’s happier than Nicola. That’s probably true. Alcoholics can stop drinking but what is there for the children of alcoholics? Is it always too late? Probably. She doesn’t know.

She’s my daughter. The only one I have and the only child I’ll ever have. I see the fear in her eyes, I sense her hesitancy, but when I get her to smile it makes up for all those moments in between. I got this one chance. My last chance. I don’t want to blow what little time I have left with her so no, I don’t want anyone rocking her world.

She supposed this was the real definition of a mother – a woman who willingly allows her heart to break over and over again for her children.

She's wonderful and soulful. She has a sly sense of humor. I've seen her deliver a funnier joke with a single silent raise of her eyebrow than many stand up comedians. She guards a very sensitive heart. Any human suffering brings her to tears. She's smart. Talk down to her and find yourself mentally slapped. She's an excellent judge of character, and seems to know an original spirit from a forgery every time. Cross boundaries with her...in any improper way and suffer the wrath of a lion. ... She's principled and firm. Rude behavior doesn't materialize in her presence. She's a grown-up who fully sees and knows children as citizens, and people, and souls. And because she respects children, all children seem to respect her.

She was an afterthought, little Martha. She was treated the way many families treated pet dogs - she had to be fed and cleaned every now and then, but she was left to her own devices for the most part.

She wanted to tell him so much, on the tarmac, the day he left. The world is run by brutal men and the surest proof is their armies. If they ask you to stand still, you should dance. If they ask you to burn the flag, wave it. If they ask you to murder, re-create. Theorem, anti-theorem, corollary, anti-corollary. Underline it twice. It’s all there in the numbers. Listen to your mother. Listen to me, Joshua. Look me in the eyes. I have something to tell you.

She will not plant the seed in their mind, that a parent is capable of abandoning her children, of saying to them You are not enough. For Pari, the children and Eric have always been enough. They always will be.

She was our mother and belonged to us. She was never mentioned to anyone because we simply didn't have enough of her to share.

She wished for a moment that they were all children again. It still seemed extraordinary to her, that everything had turned out the way it had.

Should I talk to her friends?’ he asked softly, because he had to say something to take his mind away from the feel of her body against his and the rising desire to kiss her. ‘No, don’t,’ she turned her head and her mouth was suddenly tantalisingly close, lips moist and inviting. ‘Jax,’ he murmured. He smoothed hair from her brow. Her eyes met his, wide and surprised. She straightened, moved and his hand slipped from her shoulders. Mistake. Don’t make it again. She didn’t want more than comfort from him. Friends was as far they would go.