“If you’d only let me come by myself, none of this would have happened. Having you around makes everything worse.’She buried her head under her pillow. ‘Stop it! you’re so cold! You’re heartless, you little robot!’ The pillow muffled her words, but they still”
— Natalie Standiford
“Childishness and childlikeness are two very different things. To know a childlike person, is to know a very mature person; to know a childish person, is to know a very immature person. To know childlikeness is to know original wisdom; to know childishness is to know original error. And there are many children more mature than adults, many adults less mature than children.”
— C. JoyBell C.
“The enduring rapture with magic and fable has always struck me as latently childish and somehow sexless (and thus also related to childlessness).”
— Christopher Hitchens
“Your mama coming back. Just cause you cant sees a person aint mean nothing. They still there. You worry you never gonna find your mama but she gonna come to you. Close your eyes. I bets you see her good.”
— Nancy Rawles
“You can’t confuse childlike faith with childish thinking.”
— John F. MacArthur Jr.
“Obedient to no man, dependent only on weather and season, without a goal before them or a roof above them, owning nothing, open to every whim of fate, the homeless wanderers lead their childlike, brave, shabby existence. They are the sons of Adam, who was driven out of Paradise; the brothers of the animals, of innocence. Out of heaven’s hand they accept what is given them from moment to moment: sun, rain, fog, snow, warmth, cold, comfort, and hardship; time does not exist for them and neither does history, or ambition, or that bizarre idol called progress and evolution, in which houseowners believe so desperately. A wayfarer may be delicate or crude, artful or awkward, brave or cowardly—he is always a child at heart, living in the first day of creation, before the beginning of the history of the world, his life always guided by a few simple instincts and needs. He may be intelligent or stupid; he may be deeply aware of the fleeting fragility of all living things, of how pettily and fearfully each living creature carries its bit of warm blood through the glaciers of cosmic space, or he may merely follow the commands of his poor stomach with childlike greed—he is always the opponent, the deadly enemy of the established proprietor, who hates him, despises him, or fears him, because he does not wish to be reminded that all existence is transitory, that life is constantly wilting, that merciless icy death fills the cosmos all around.”
— Hermann Hesse