Childhood Memories Quotes

“My dad had limitations. That's what my good-hearted mom always told us. He had limitations, but he meant no harm. It was kind of her to say, but he did do harm.”
― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

“Now I gazed out of my office window. Slowly the world was changing from old-gold to the deep purple which, in the words of that dreamy song Mum was fond of humming, bathes garden walls under the twinkle of starlight.”
― Michael Wyndham Thomas, The Erkeley Shadows

“Childhood memories were like airplane luggage; no matter how far you were traveling or how long you needed them to last, you were only ever allowed two bags. And while those bags might hold a few hazy recollections—a diner with a jukebox at the table, being pushed on a swing set, the way it felt to be picked up and spun around—it didn’t seem enough to last a whole lifetime.”
― Jennifer E. Smith, This Is What Happy Looks Like

“As I reached the door, the constable said, “Good luck in Canada, son.” For a second I expected his voice to morph into Uncle Sid’s as he urged me to give his love to Rose Marie and the Mounties.”
― Michael Wyndham Thomas, The Erkeley Shadows

“Memories of childhood were the dreams that stayed with you after you woke.”
― Julian Barnes, England, England

“...my father, [was] a mid-level phonecompany manager who treated my mother at best like an incompetent employee. At worst? He never beat her, but his pure, inarticulate fury would fill the house for days, weeks, at a time, making the air humid, hard to breathe, my father stalking around with his lower jaw jutting out, giving him the look of a wounded, vengeful boxer, grinding his teeth so loud you could hear it across the room ... I'm sure he told himself: 'I never hit her'. I'm sure because of this technicality he never saw himself as an abuser. But he turned our family life into an endless road trip with bad directions and a rage-clenched driver, a vacation that never got a chance to be fun.”
― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

“Don't you wish you could take a single childhood memory and blow it up into a bubble and live inside it forever?”
― Sarah Addison Allen, Lost Lake

“Bees blew like cake-crumbs through the golden air, white butterflies like sugared wafers, and when it wasn't raining a diamond dust took over which veiled and yet magnified all things”
― Laurie Lee, Cider with Rosie

“...some nights I'd sneak out and listen to the radio in my Dad's old Chevy - children need solitude - they don't teach that in school...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“Sam had never heard of a bear on a boat, but here she sat, on a boat with a bear. ”
― Douglas Weissman, Life Between Seconds

“Eventually, however, the denial turned into emptiness and my childhood ended.”
― Floyd C. Forsberg, The Toughest Prison of All

“Gdje su zlatne ptice ljudskih snova, preko kojih se to bezbrojnih mora i vrletnih planina do njih dolazi? Da li nam se ta duboka čežnja djetinje nerazumnosti posigurno javlja samo kao tužni znak izvezen na mahramama i na safijanskim koricama nepotrebnih knjiga?”
― Meša Selimović, Death and the Dervish

“In the life of everyone there is a limited number of experiences which are not written upon the memory, but stamped there with a die; and in the long years after, they can be called up in detail, and every emotion that was stirred by them can be lived through anew; these are the tragedies of life.”
― James Weldon Johnson, The Autobiography of an Ex-Coloured Man

“Since my earliest memory, I imagined I would be a chef one day. When other kids were watching Saturday morning cartoons or music videos on YouTube, I was watching Iron Chef,The Great British Baking Show, and old Anthony Bourdain shows and taking notes. Like, actual notes in the Notes app on my phone. I have long lists of ideas for recipes that I can modify or make my own. This self-appointed class is the only one I've ever studied well for.
I started playing around with the staples of the house: rice, beans, plantains, and chicken. But 'Buela let me expand to the different things I saw on TV. Soufflés, shepherd's pie, gizzards. When other kids were saving up their lunch money to buy the latest Jordans, I was saving up mine so I could buy the best ingredients. Fish we'd never heard of that I had to get from a special market down by Penn's Landing. Sausages that I watched Italian abuelitas in South Philly make by hand. I even saved up a whole month's worth of allowance when I was in seventh grade so I could make 'Buela a special birthday dinner of filet mignon.”
― Elizabeth Acevedo, With the Fire on High

“He remembers when he was a kid, freckly and unafraid, when the world seemed like it was blissfully endless but everything still made perfect sense.”
― Casey McQuiston

“These fragments are all that remain of my early childhood. There are no words, just sounds: my mother's breathy humming in my ear, her voice the most familiar thing to me, more known than my own hand. My hand still surprises me at all times; the lines and creases, the way the webbing between my fingers glows red if I hold up my hand to block the sun. My mother's voice is my home and when I am surrounded by her sounds, I sleep.”
― Augusten Burroughs, A Wolf at the Table

“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।”
― Vandana Yadav, आई डोन्ट लाइक यू

“The truth is that’s why I’m writing all this. Behind me is the elemental fiend of my memories crumbling into powder. I watch an arm disintegrate and instantly forget what was there.”
― Daniel Nayeri, Everything Sad Is Untrue

“Sometimes the greatest lessons come not from the roads we take, but from the moments we are stopped when our journeys are interrupted by the love and wisdom of those who care for us”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Through Tragedy and Triumph: A Life Well Traveled

“Gin blackberry bramble and peanut brittle spheres," Delilah tells us.
I take a sip of the drink. Instantly, I'm back in the South on a summer's day, eating plump blackberries straight from the bush. The peanut brittle sphere melts in my mouth, reminding me of the cookies Delilah's mom used to make for us, more savory than sweet. It's such a strong childhood moment that I swear I can practically feel the sun on my back.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“With the oysters, I'm at the shore, swimming in the heat of the day. She serves us baby cream biscuits and smoked peach butter that taste exactly like those we'd eat around her mother's table during a Sunday dinner, only better, tweaked in a way that makes me want to taste it again and again. Buttermilk panna cotta with spot prawns and spring vegetables pulls me right into lazy picnics in Delilah's backyard, when we'd gorge on plump peas, sweet tomatoes, crisp cucumbers. The tender shrimp and tart buttermilk--- all of this is our childhood on a plate.
I never wanted to look too closely at that time, but it's slapping me tight in the face. Oddly, it doesn't hurt. Not this version. It feels fragile and rare, like I should be protecting it, like I should be proud of where we come from and who we are.
And then the menu changes on me. The servers bring out what Delilah says is butter-poached cod with potato galette and shellfish emulsion dotted with petals of mango and peach. It is the clean taste of the sea; it is buttery velvet along my tongue, bright bursts of juicy fruit. Underneath it all is a crisp, airy version of what is essentially a gourmet tater tot.
The taste is erotic. Heat and lust wash over me in a wave that has my balls clenching and my cock stiffening. I can't figure out why. Then it hits me like a kick to the chest. This dish is us. Frantic kissing on the beach, eating juicy mangos at the market, peaches and tater tots. She's created us. A compilation of all she holds dear.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“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.”
― Abigail Bostic

“She watched, hoping he’d notice the bright napkins and the single red Hibiscus flower she’d set on the table, but his eyes were glued to his mother.”
― Scarlet Ibis James, Scarlet Yearnings: Stories of Love and Desire

“(WHEN I WAS A CHILD)
I was told that I was insane,
seeing doctors in hospitals
far away from home.

LITTLE WHITE PILLS
inside small transparent containers
that could fit my baby teeth
like seashells, I dreamed.

WHEN I WAS A CHILD
my mind made up things—
not castles of sand,
nor careless childish dreams.

NOW I AM GROWN
I can’t see myself anymore,
behind walls of lights
I painted on as a child.

(BUT NOWADAYS)
I cannot think back and wonder
if these things ever really happened.”
― Laura Chouette

“Across the field she flies to me, like a bird so tiny and new. First steps in early morning spring dew.
The air is fresh and the sky is a perfect blue.”
― Linda Doty, Mother's Memories

“In my youth
I was nurtured upon the bitter bread of tension,
each breath seasoned by unquiet nights
and guarded dawns.

Thus did my flesh learn
to thrive on the restless pulse of worry,
finding sustenance in the very chaos
that frayed its edges.”
― Nyx Thorn, VERSES OF THE BROKEN: Echoes From A Fractured Mind

“Dar te iubeam, mamă. Și nu înțelegeam de ce nu mă iubești și tu. Cum să îți arăt că te iubesc, ca să nu mă mai cerți. Să mă iei în brațe și să mă iubești și tu. Ce greșeam? Ceva sigur greșeam. Că oamenii mari știu. Copiii mici nu știu nimic. Și tu erai maaare, mamă, cea mai mare mamă din lume. Lumea mea, mamă. Am înțeles apoi.”
― Ioana Duda, Antidepresiv

“Some people go shopping. We went to the cemetery. Not because we had nothing better to do — but because it was the most honest route in town.”

— Lana Stasek, Voices Within: Family Chronicles”
― Lana Stasek

“childhood remembrances are always a drag
if you’re Black”
― Nikki Giovanni, Black Feeling, Black Talk / Black Judgement

“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”
― Siraj Faisal khan, Chand Baitha Hua Hai Pahlu Mein