Early Childhood Memories Quotes

Once in those very early days my brother brought into the nursery the lid of a biscuit tin which he had covered with moss and garnished with twigs and flowers so as to make it a toy garden or a toy forest. That was the first beauty I ever knew. What the real garden had failed to do, the toy garden did. It made me aware of nature-not, indeed, as a storehouse of forms and colors but as something cool, dewy, fresh, exuberant....As long as I live my imagination of Paradise will retain something of my brother's toy garden.

The first musical sound I ever heard was from a banjo. My father played, and I was an infant in a crib, and something just stayed with me from those early days.

My own musical ambitions were born when I was five, watching the Ed Sullivan Show on TV. When Elvis Presley burst on to the screen, singing 'Don't Be Cruel,' I felt my first sexual thrill, though I didn't know what it was at the time.

I was born in St. Louis; I lived there for three weeks and then my father graduated from St. Louis University, so we all got in the car and split. I don't really remember much. I grew up in Connecticut most of my life and then four years in Germany. My father worked for a helicopter company, so we went over there.

My first memory of loving music happened so early. We would always go to the beach in the summer and I would run from blanket to blanket, from family to family and just sing Lion King songs acapella.

Before I could read, I remember trying to piece together the stories from the images. It was a very primal experience.

My mom likes to say I've been covering news since the day I was born - longer if you count my time in utero.

I was the first son and first child. When my sister came along, well, she was two years younger, and I had to go to the golf course because my mother couldn't handle all the action going on. So I came with father to the golf course since I was a year and a half old and I spent the day with him here, and it worked in naturally. And it was fun for me being with my father, and doing things that a kid did it was great.

Before I liked to write, I liked to type. I remember visiting my grandmother Adele in Ponce Inlet, Florida, when I was three years old, and she had an IBM electric typewriter.

When I was young, around 5, I was crying in all the pictures of me. I did not like the flash; it scared me!

My close friends are not from the industry. They are those I went to Lower Kindergarten with.

One of my earliest memories involves sitting on my dad’s lap in his studio in the garage of our house and watching him draw. I remember thinking: ‘I want to do that, too,’ and I pretty much decided then and there at age 2½ or 3 that I was an artist just like Dad.

We were living in the Slad Road when my father left us. I was about three.

I am told that the first comprehensible word I uttered as a child was 'home.'

Speaking of birthdays, our firstborn [recently turned 2]. As parents sometimes fondly do, we reminisced a bit about his early days on earth-the excitement, the wonder, the fears when we brought him home. His every squeak or squawk we were sure heralded some terrible crisis; I tested the warmth of formulas from dusk to dawn, it seemed. We were so germ-conscious my wife even sterilized the skin of the oranges before squeezing them. How firstborns ever survive their parents' attentions is beyond me. However, they do, and he did, and, in spite of our efforts, he turned out to be quite a good guy.

I think my first musical memory is actually listening to Billie Holiday. I think I must have been, like, 3 or 4 years old.

When I was between 2 and 3 years old, I got to know my first non-human being. The non-human was a cocker spaniel named Baba. We weren't friends, Baba and I, nor enemies. He wasn't my dog. He belonged to the people my mother worked for, and he lived in the house with them and us.

I kept a diary right after I was born. Day 1: Tired from the move. Day 2: Everyone thinks I'm an idiot.

One of my grandsons used to insist, when he was only 3 or 4, that he had been born and had lived in India.

I think I remember being held by my mum as a baby.

I was born singing. My father tells this story about when I was 3 weeks old, how I would rock in the crib and sing in the crib all night long. My crib would roll across the floor in the middle of the night. Finally, my father nailed its legs to the floor.

My first crush was this kid in kindergarten who told me he had tigers in his attic as well.

I didn't actually even really know my grandmother; I must have been 3 or 4 when she died.