A Quote by Samuel Woodworth
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew.
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How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.
In reality, childhood is deep and rich. It's vital, mysterious, and profound. I remember my OWN childhood vividly; I knew terrible things, but I knew I mustn't let the adults *know* I knew... it would scare them.
There are some delightful places in this world which have a sensual charm for the eyes. One loves them with a physical love. We people who are attracted by the countryside cherish fond memories of certain springs, certain woods, certain ponds, certain hills, which have become familiar sights and can touch our hearts like happy events. Sometimes indeed the memory goes back towards a forest glade, or a spot on a river bank or an orchard in blossom, glimpsed only once on a happy day, but preserved in our heart.
Even in the big movies, if the scenes are very big, I'm not fond of them as much as I'm fond of small actor scenes.
From childhood I was passionately fond of music and wanted to be a musician. I have no recollection of any real desire ever to be anything else.
The importance of recalls is to show that contaminated meat is getting out the door. And when you look at these recalls, in many ways the most disturbing thing about these recalls is how little of the meat actually winds up back at the plant.
in the nineteenth year and the eleventh month speak your tattered Kaddish for all suicides: Praise to life though it crumbled in like a tunnel on ones we knew and loved Praise to life though its windows blew shut on the breathing-room of ones we knew and loved Praise to life though ones we knew and loved loved it badly, too well, and not enough Praise to life though it tightened like a knot on the hearts of ones we thought we knew loved us Praise to life giving room and reason to ones we knew and loved who felt unpraisable. Praise to them, how they loved it, when they could.
Farewell, my great one, my own, farewell, my pride, farewell, my swift, deep, dear river, how I loved your daylong splashing, how I loved to plunge into your cold waves.
If I find a green meadow splashed with daisies and sit down beside a clear-running brook, I have found medicine. It soothes my hurts as well as when I sat in my mother's lap in infancy, because the Earth really is my mother, and the green meadow is her lap.
Like every other teenage girl, I was a great fan of Hrithik sir. This childhood crush was not like others though - the love for him was so deep in my heart that my boarding school hostel room was filled with his posters which I didn't let any one touch. My heart was broken when I saw him getting married.
Whether surrounded with error or truth, the web woven around them in childhood's days lasts, and seldom wears threadbare...The traditions of my earliest recollection are so forcible upon me that it seems impossible for me to get rid of them. And so it is with others; hence the necessity of correct training in childhood.
The limner's art may trace the absent feature,
And give the eye of distant weeping faith
To view the form of its idolatry;
But oh! the scenes 'mid which they met and parted;
The thoughts--the recollections sweet and bitter,--
Th' Elysian dreams of lovers, when they loved,--
Who shall restore them?
May tender memories soften your grief, May fond recollection bring you relief, And may you find comfort and peace in the thought Of the joy that knowing your loved one brought... For time and space can never divide Or keep your loved one from your side. When memory paints in colors true, the happy hours that belonged to you.
Every generation rediscovers and re-evaluates the meaning of infancy and childhood.
The heart is always young only in the recollection of those whom it has loved in youth.
I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)- To the island-valley of Avilion, Where falls not hail or rain or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
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