Infancy Quotes

Quotes tagged as "infancy" Showing 1-30 of 32
Naomi Novik
“It is quite uninteresting; that is why one comes out."
— Temeraire, on being inside an egg
Naomi Novik, Black Powder War

John Updike
“From infancy on, we are all spies; the shame is not this but that the secrets to be discovered are so paltry and few. ”
John Updike

Monty Roberts
“I had been riding horses before my memory kicked in, so my life with horses had no beginning. It simply appeared from the fog of infancy. I survived a difficult childhood by traveling on the backs of horses, and in adulthood the pattern didn't change.”
Monty Roberts, The Horses in My Life

William Golding
“Heaven lies around us in our infancy.”
William Golding, Darkness Visible

Debasish Mridha
“Still humanity is in her infancy, so often we engage in fighting to destroy ourself.”
Debasish Mridha M.D.

Liezi
“In infancy, our blood is strong and our energy is plentiful. Mind and body, thought and action are one. Everything we do is in harmony with the natural order. The infant is not affected by things that happen around him. Virtue and ethics cannot restrain his will. Naked and free of social conventions, he follows the natural path of the heart.”
Liezi, Lieh-tzu: A Taoist Guide to Practical Living

L.R. Knost
“New mothers are often told that once they've fed, burped, and changed their baby they should leave their baby alone to self-soothe if they cry because all of their needs have been met. One day I hope all new mothers will smile confidently and say, "I gave birth to a baby, not just a digestive system. My baby as a brain that needs to learn trust and a heart that needs love. I will meet all of my baby's needs, emotional, mental, and physical, and I'll respond to every cry because crying is communication, not manipulation.”
L.R. Knost, Two Thousand Kisses a Day: Gentle Parenting Through the Ages and Stages

Michael Bassey Johnson
“Love at infancy is the strongest and puriest of all, it is mixed with infatuation and deep happiness. Persistent smile brings out hollow dimples, and persistent frowns brings out hollow wrinkles.”
Michael Bassey Johnson

Munia Khan
“Facing a language you don't know is like returning to your infancy when your mother tongue used to be a foreign language to you”
Munia Khan

Munia Khan
“There’s an infant part in our souls which longs for the lullaby truths of life every night for a tranquil slumber.”
Munia Khan

Michael Bassey Johnson
“Love at infancy is the strongest and puriest of all, it is mixed with infatuation and deep happiness.”
Michael Bassey Johnson

Siri Hustvedt
“Infancy is irretrievable. Its memories live underground. To what extent they return by stealth or are triggered by various catalysts remains an ongoing question.”
Siri Hustvedt, The Shaking Woman, or A History of My Nerves

Michel de Montaigne
“The natural heat, say the good-fellows,
first seats itself in the feet: that concerns infancy; thence it mounts into the middle
region, where it makes a long abode and produces, in my opinion, the sole true pleasures of human life; all other pleasures in comparison sleep; towards the end, like a vapor that still mounts upward, it arrives at the throat, where it makes its final residence, and concludes the progress.”
Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Essays

“One reason it is vital to respond to an infant's needs is trhat the baby feels it is the cause of its own neglect, although this is not a conscious thought. Such narcissistic feelings pave the road to an infant's psychological and physical growth; since the baby senses no boundaries between herself and her mother, she "believes" that her cries cause the mother to tend to her. And if the mother does not tend to her, the baby believes that she created her own rejection by not being lovable, not worthy of care. It's a belief that haunts one's life.”
Victoria Secunda, When You and Your Mother Can't Be Friends: Resolving the Most Complicated Relationship of Your Life

Munia Khan
“If an infant had the capacity to think hard about this world, it would have wanted to go back to its mother's womb again”
Munia Khan

Anthony Doerr
“He never cried, not even when his alarm went off. Swaddled in his Moses basket, wires trailing out the bottom, his monitor flashing green, green, green, his entire four-pound body motionless except his eyelids, it seemed he understood everything I was working so hard to understand: his mother's love, his brother's ceaseless crying: he was already forgiving me my shortcomings as a father; he was a distillation of a dozen generations, all stripped into a single flame and stowed still-burning inside the this slip of his ribs. I'd hold him to the window and he'd stare out into the night, blue tributaries of veins pulsing his neck, his big eyelids slipping down now and then, and it would feel as if tethers were falling away, and the two of us were gently rising, through the glass, through the trees, through the interweaving layers of atmosphere, into whatever was beyond the sky.”
Anthony Doerr, Four Seasons in Rome: On Twins, Insomnia, and the Biggest Funeral in the History of the World

Charles Bukowski
“My spoon was bent so that if I wanted to eat I had to pick the spoon up with my right hand. If I picked it up with my left hand, the spoon bent away from my mouth. I wanted to pick the spoon up with my left hand.”
Charles Bukowski

Michael Bassey Johnson
“...as we are endowed. ...with rhetorics. ...none will deny.
...of innocence. ...towards scribbling. ...of love lines.
...and of lust.
...to what seems like male.
...to what seems like female.
...in those days.
...I mean nothing. ...but in high school.
....even me.
...I can't deny.”
Michael Bassey Johnson

Kamil Ali
“RETURN TO TENDER

Our aging parents deserve the same loving care they gave us in infancy

Kamil Ali”
Kamil Ali, Profound Vers-A-Tales

Carlos Fuentes
“Siempre supe que la madurez es una manera de recordar claramente todo lo olvidado (todo lo perdido); la infancia regresa cuando se envejece, en la juventud la rechazamos”
Carlos Fuentes, Cumpleaños

Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Infancy is the perpetual Messiah, which comes into the arms of fallen men, and pleads with them to return to paradise.”
ralph waldo emerson, Nature

Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Infancy conforms to nobody: all conform to it, so that one babe commonly makes four or five out of the adults who prattle and play to it.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson Self Reliance

“The psychologist Jerome Kagan has argued that parenting has a threshold function: up until that threshold is crossed, the effects of a child's very early experience even out in the end. But parenting that crosses the threshold—abuse, stress, utter indifference—can sink in deep, especially if the baby remains in that environment. There's a lot to be said for this perspective on parenthood, not least that it offers well-meaning parents some relief from scaremongering. It also accounts for the astounding flexibility of the human infant: he is game for the craziest parenting stuff you can come up with.”
Nicholas Day, Baby Meets World: Suck, Smile, Touch, Toddle

Anthony Doerr
“He never cried, not even when his alarm went off. Swaddled in his Moses basket, wires trailing out the bottom, his monitor flashing green, green, green, his entire four-pound body motionless except his eyelids, it seemed he understood everything I was working so hard to understand: his mother's love, his brother's ceasless crying: he was alreday forgiving me my shortcomings as a father; he was a distillation of a dozen generations, all stripped into a single flame and stowed still-burning inside the this slip of his ribs. I'd hold him to the window and he's stare out into the night, blue tributaries of veins pulsing his neck, his big eyelids slipping down now and then, and it would feel as if tethers were falling away, and the two of us were gently rising, through the glass, through the trees, through the interweaving layers of atmosphere, into whatever was beyond the sky.”
Anthony Doerr, Four Seasons in Rome: On Twins, Insomnia, and the Biggest Funeral in the History of the World

Anthony Doerr
“He never cried, not even when his alarm went off. Swaddled in his Moses basket, wires trailing out the bottom, his monitor flashing green, green, green, his entire four-pound body motionless except his eyelids, it seemed he understood everything I was working so hard to understand: his mother's love, his brother's ceaseless crying: he was already forgiving me my shortcomings as a father; he was a distillation of a dozen generations, my grandpa's grandpa's grandpa, all stripped into a single flame and stowed still-burning inside the thin slip of his ribs. I'd hold him to the window and he'd stare out into the night, blue tributaries of veins pulsing his neck, his big eyelids slipping down now and then, and it would feel as if tethers were falling away, and the two of us were gently rising, through the glass, through the trees, through the interweaving layers of atmosphere, into whatever was beyond the sky”
Anthony Doerr, Four Seasons in Rome: On Twins, Insomnia, and the Biggest Funeral in the History of the World

John Ortberg
“It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
John Ortberg, The Life You've Always Wanted: Spiritual Disciplines for Ordinary People

Matt Goulding
“The only point that everyone I spoke with in Rome agrees upon is that Armando al Pantheon is one of the city's last true trattorie.
Given the location, Claudio and his family could have gone the way of the rest of the neighborhood a long time ago and mailed it in with a handful of fresh mozzarella and prosciutto. But he's chosen the opposite path, an unwavering dedication to the details- the extra steps that make the oxtail more succulent, the pasta more perfectly toothsome, the artichokes and favas and squash blossoms more poetic in their expression of the Roman seasons.
"I experiment in my own small ways. I want to make something new, but I also want my guests to think of their mothers and grandmothers. I want them to taste their infancy, to taste their memories. Like that great scene in Ratatouille."
I didn't grow up on amatriciana and offal, but when I eat them here, they taste like a memory I never knew I had. I keep coming back. For the cacio e pepe, which sings that salty-spicy duet with unrivaled clarity, thanks to the depth charge of toasted Malaysian peppercorns Claudio employs. For his coda alla vaccinara, as Roman as the Colosseum, a masterpiece of quinto quarto cookery: the oxtail cooked to the point of collapse, bathed in a tomato sauce with a gentle green undertow of celery, one of Rome's unsung heroes. For the vegetables: one day a crostini of stewed favas and pork cheek, the next a tumble of bitter puntarelle greens bound in a bracing anchovy vinaigrette. And always the artichokes. If Roman artichokes are drugs, Claudio's are pure poppy, a vegetable so deeply addictive that I find myself thinking about it at the most inappropriate times. Whether fried into a crisp, juicy flower or braised into tender, melting submission, it makes you wonder what the rest of the world is doing with their thistles.”
Matt Goulding, Pasta, Pane, Vino: Deep Travels Through Italy's Food Culture

Mary Calvi
“Today, in the open air, she watched the foal - a young one experiencing life with a mother to help guide the way, a bonding, an intimacy that would remain for a lifetime. Infancy is a splendid thing, she thought, a masterpiece of the heavens, when is born a destiny that, if allowed to flourish, will see its bestowed graces realized.”
Mary Calvi, Dear George, Dear Mary: A Novel of George Washington's First Love

Étienne de La Boétie
“Pois, em verdade, o que é aproximar-se do tirano senão recuar mais de sua liberdade e, por assim dizer, apertar com as duas mãos e abraçar a servidão? Que ponham um pouco de lado sua ambição e que se livrem um pouco de sua avareza, e depois, que olhem-se a si mesmos e se reconheçam; e verão claramente que os aldeões, os camponeses que espezinham o quanto podem e os tratam pior do que a forçados ou escravos — verão que esses, assim maltratados, são no entanto felizes e mais livres elo que eles. O lavrador e o artesão, ainda que subjugados, ficam quites ao fazer o que lhes dizem; mas o tirano vê os outros que lhe são próximos trapaceando e mendigando seu favor; não só é preciso que façam o que diz mas que pensem o que quer e amiúde, para satisfazê-lo, que ainda antecipem seus pensamentos. Para eles não basta obedecê-lo, também é preciso agradá-lo, é preciso que se arrebentem, que se atormentem, que se matem de trabalhar nos negócios dele; e já que se aprazem com o prazer dele, que deixam seu gosto pelo dele, que forçam sua compleição, que despem o seu natural, é preciso que estejam atentos às palavras dele, à voz dele, aos sinais dele, e aos olhos dele; que não tenham olho, pé, mão, que tudo esteja alerta para espiar as vontades dele e descobrir seus pensamentos. Isso é viver feliz? Chama-se a isso, viver? Há no mundo algo menos suportável do que isso, não digo para um homem de coração, não digo para um bem-nascido, mas apenas para um que tenha o senso comum ou nada mais que a face de homem? Que condição é mais miserável que viver assim, nada tendo de seu, recebendo de outrem sua satisfação, sua liberdade, seu corpo e sua vida?”
Étienne de La Boétie, The Politics of Obedience: The Discourse of Voluntary Servitude

Jean Baudrillard
“A strategy of this kind is far from innocent. It is the strategy adopted by children. Whereas adults make children believe that they, the adults, are adults, children for their part let adults believe that they, the children, are children. Of these two strategies the second is the subtler, for while adults believe that they are adults, children do not believe that they are children. They are children, but they do not believe it. They sail under the flag of childhood as under a flag of convenience. The ruse (and the seduction) is total. Children are not far removed, in fact, from Schnitzler's microbes: they are, as it were, a different species, and their vitality and development announce the eventual destruction of the superior - adult - world that surrounds them. Childhood haunts the adult universe as a subtle and deadly presence. It is in this sense that the child is other to the adult: the child is the adult's destiny, the adult is his most subtly distilled form. The child nevertheless repudiates the adult - all the while moving within him with all the grace of those who have no will of their own.”
Jean Baudrillard, The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena

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