#child

Adults...struggle desperately with fiction, demanding constantly that it conform to the rules of everyday life. Adults foolishly demand to know how Superman can possibly fly, or how Batman can possibly run a multibillion-dollar business empire during the day and fight crime at night, when the answer is obvious even to the smallest child: because it's not real. ↗

— Grant Morrison

#batman #children #comics #fiction #literature

I was a very, very serious child... I was valedictorian of my kindergarten and eighth-grade class. ↗

— Christine Lavin

#class #i #kindergarten #serious #very

If kids six and under eat free, then I’m an infant. Or at least infantile. Bring on the steaks.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#cheap #cheater #children #dinner #discount

I love children. Eating them, that is. ↗

— Keith McGowan

#cuisine #eating #folktales #humor #love

Times are bad. Children no longer obey their parents, and everyone is writing a book. ↗

— Marcus Tullius Cicero

#humor #times-never-change #change

The marriage of a Jewish son is a bittersweet prospect. There is relief, always, that he has navigated the tantalizing and plentiful assemblies of non-Jewish women to whom the children of the Diaspora are inevitably exposed: from the moment he enters secondary school there is the constant anxiety that a blue-eyed Christina or Mary will lure him away from the tribe. Jewish men are widely known to be uxorious in all the most advantageous ways. And so each mother fears that, whether he be short and myopic, boorish or stupid or prone to discuss his lactose intolerance with strangers, whether he be blessed with a beard rising almost to meet his hairline, he is still within the danger zone. Somewhere out there is a shiksa with designs on her son. Jewish men make good husbands. It is the Jewish woman's blessing as a wife, and her curse as a mother. ↗

— Francesca Segal

#humor #judaism #marriage #sons-and-mothers #design

To live for the hope of something isn’t really living at all, and so, like a child putting away its toys and picking up a tool, he marched to Lyca’s bathroom, to shower off the stench of failure, soap up the death of hope, then wash away the ashes of his love for Daphne. ↗

— Mark A. Rayner

#ashes #child #crush #death #fail

the cold winds of insecurity... hadn't shredded the dreamy chrysalis of his childhood. He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him; he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's unthinking way, for spring and warmth. How the wings ache, folded so, waiting; that is, they ache until they atrophy. ↗

— Harold Brodkey

#innocence #love

It was nice to hear the voices of little children at play, provided you took care to be far enough away not to hear what they were actually saying. ↗

— Terry Pratchett

#hogfather #humor #terry-pratchett #humor

...indeed, with the Radletts, you never could tell. Why, for instance, would Victoria bellow like a bull and half kill Jassy whenever Jassy said, in a certain tone of voice, pointing her finger with a certain look, "Fancy?" I think they hardly knew why, themselves. ↗

— Nancy Mitford

#humor #nonsense #humor