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#child

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #child




For the children around the world without a home, say a prayer tonight. ↗


— Third Day


#music #prayer #music

I like the smell of my Grandma's soap - I used to sit in the bath and eat it. ↗


— Carl Barât


#humor #music #musician #music

He welcomes the chance to do fatherly things with the little girl, and those ten morning minutes with dear little four-year-old Ruby, with her deep soulful eyes, and the wondrous things she sees with them, and her deep soulful voice, and the precious though not entirely memorable things she says with it, and the smell of baby shampoo and breakfast cereal filling the car, that little shimmering capsule of time is like listening to cello music in the morning, or watching birds in a flutter of industry building a nest, it simply reminds you that even if God is dead, or never existed in the first place, there is, nevertheless, something tender at the center of creation, some meaning, some purpose and poetry. ↗


— Scott Spencer


#children #fatherhood #god #parenting #poetry

My best advice to anyone who wants to raise a happy, mentally healthy child is: Keep him or her as far away from a church as you can. ↗


— Frank Zappa


#religion #religion

I want to write a song based on my own childbirth. Of course, this is all a bit premature. ↗


— Jarod Kintz


#funny #humor #music #song #music

The music world is where child prodigies go to die. ↗


— Haruki Murakami


#music #prodigies #music

My Mommy likes to wiggle And it really makes me giggle. The music keeps her moving And she's smiling as she's grooving. She goes...Wiggle, wiggle to the left; wiggle to the right, Wiggle, wiggle, jiggle, jiggle - Dancing through the night... ↗


— Kathleen Gauer


#music

I just want to be someone, to mean something to anyone… ↗


— Charlotte Eriksson


#confused #empty-roads-broken-bottles #finding-yourself #lost #lyrics

You make me thirsty, Promethea, my river, you make me eternally thirsty, my water. As if I had spent my life in an old house of dried mud, so dry myself that I could not even thirst, until yesterday. And suddenly yesterday, the dusty floor of my old house burst open and while I was still dozing away my parched existence, drop by drop I heard the music of coolness awaken the thirst under my dry soul. And leaning over the dark shaft of my life, I saw my childhood springs unearthed. Is that always how (by accident) we rediscover Magdalenian riches? ↗


— Hélène Cixous


#childhood #longing #soul #source #thirst

She was born as music–a single, mellow note suspended in the air. Suspended as if strung from nothing, held into possibilities of sound. Her clear note hung a lone, sweet tone in the midst of us all; as silence captured its ache and tenderly, reluctantly released it, dipped it lower into a breath of melancholy only to lift again to its earlier height both rich and real and complete–one solitary note swaying into the early dawn. Emily arrived in the cold, grey hours of the newborn year, between the breathing dark and the pearl, winter light. A child of the dawn, before dawn broke. ↗


— Debi Cimo


#delicate #emily #music






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