Dabbling in the sandbox gives Rabbit a small headache. Over at the pavilion the rubber thump of Roofball and the click of checkers call to his memory, and the forgotten smell of that narrow plastic ribbon you braid bracelets and whistlechains out of and of glue and of the sweat on the handles on athletic equipment is blown down by a breeze laced with children's murmuring. He feels the truth: the thing that has left his life has left irrevocably; no search would recover it. No flight would reach it. It was here, beneath the town, in these smells and these voices, forever behind him. The fullness ends when we give Nature her ransom, when we make children for her. Then she is through with us, and we become, first inside, and then outside, junk. Flower stalks. John Updike
And when all the wars are over, a butterfly will still be beautiful.
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Ruskin Bond
That was when it was all made painfully clear to me. When you are a child, there is joy. There is laughter. And most of all, there is trust. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>Trust in your fellows. When you are an adult..then comes suspicion, hatred, and fear....
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Peter David
Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days.
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Flannery OConnor
Be sure to lie to your kids about the benevolent, all-seeing Santa Claus. It will prepare them for an adulthood of believing in God.
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Scott Dikkers
Whatever I learned, Whatever I knew, Seems like those faded years of childhood that flew, Away in some dilemma, Always in some confusion, The purpose of this life, Seems like an illusion!
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Mehek Bassi
More Quotes By John Updike
It is easy to love people in memory the hard thing is to love them when they are there in front of you.
Suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings.
If you have the guts to be yourself, other people'll pay your price.
The true New Yorker secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding.
Being able to write becomes a kind of shield, a way of hiding, a way of too instantly transforming pain into honey.
