Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no
memories of outlived sorrow.

Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no
memories of outlived sorrow.

Women know
The way to rear up children (to be just);
They know a simple, merry, tender read more

Women know
The way to rear up children (to be just);
They know a simple, merry, tender knack
Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes,
And stringing pretty words that make no sense,
And kissing full sense into empty words;
Which things are corals to cut life upon,
Although such trifles.

The essence of childhood, of course, is play, which my friends and I did endlessly on streets that we reluctantly read more

The essence of childhood, of course, is play, which my friends and I did endlessly on streets that we reluctantly shared with traffic.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child,
I thought as a read more

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child,
I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away
childish things.

A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing,
And mischief-making monkey from his birth.

A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing,
And mischief-making monkey from his birth.

'Tis not a life,
'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away.

'Tis not a life,
'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away.

They are idols of hearts and of households;
They are angels of God in disguise;
His sunlight read more

They are idols of hearts and of households;
They are angels of God in disguise;
His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses,
His glory still gleams in their eyes;
Those truants from home and from Heaven
They have made me more manly and mild;
And I know now how Jesus could liken
The kingdom of God to a child.

There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.

There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.

My lovely living Boy,
My hope, my hap, my Love, my life, my joy.
- Guillaume read more

My lovely living Boy,
My hope, my hap, my Love, my life, my joy.
- Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas,