Henry Ward Beecher Quotes

The soul of a child is the loveliest flower that grows in the garden of God.

The imagination is precious. Don't lose it. Don't lose the child in you.

Over at our place, we’re sure of just one thing: everybody in the world was once a child. So in planning a new picture, we don’t think of grown-ups, and we don’t think of children. But just of that fine, clean, unspoiled spot down deep in every one of us, that maybe the world has made us forget.

I write, not for children,but for the child-like, whether they be of five, or fifty, or seventy-five.

Don't be too dismissive of children. While it's true that few children are artists, all artists are children.

In the same way that a small child cannot draw a bad picture so a child of God cannot offer a bad prayer.

We must remain as close to the flowers, the grass, and the butterflies as the child is who is not yet so much taller than they are. We adults, on the other hand, have outgrown them and have to lower ourselves to stoop down to them. It seems to me that the grass hates us when we confess our love for it. Whoever would partake of all good things must understand how to be small at times.

We think the purpose of a child is to grow up because it does grow up. But its purpose is to play, to enjoy itself, to be a child. If we merely look to the end of the process, the purpose of life is death

Children are still the way you were as a child, sad and happy in just the same way-and if you think of your childhood, you once again live among them, among the solitary children.

The child in us is always there, you know, and it's the best part of us, the winged part that travels farthest.

The boy should enclose and keep, as his life, the old child at the heart of him, and never let it go. He must still, to be a right man, be his mother's darling, and more, his father's pride, and more. The child is not meant to die, but to be forever fresh born.

Hold the hand of the child within you. For this child, nothing is impossible.

The lovers of life, they are children at heart always in their wonder and delight, but they do not grab.

I long to be in the midst of the children, and have more pleasure in their little follies than in the wisdom of the wise.

...and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless.

That a little child will lead us back to the child we will always be, vulnerable and wanting and hurting for love and for beauty.

There are only three things you need to let go of judging, controlling, and being right. Release these three and you will have the whole mind and twinkly heart of a child.

Children are holy and pure. Even those of bandits and crocodiles belong among the angels.... They must not be turned into a plaything of one's mood, first to be tenderly kissed, then rabidly stomped at.

Adults always wonder what to say and how to say it when they're talking to a child. You want to be wise, but all you are is a child yourself in a larger body. Nothing is ever what it seems. The things that you think you know are never certain. I know that now. I wish that I didn't, but I do.

In its natural state, the child tells the literal truth because it is too naive to think of anything else. Blurting out the complete truth is considered adorable in the young, right smack up to the moment that the child says, 'Mommy, is this the fat lady you can't stand?

If I had influence with the good fairy... I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life.

In the true man there is a child concealed who wants to play.

Except ye become as little children, except you can wake on your fiftieth birthday with the same forward-looking excitement and interest in life that you enjoyed when you were five, "ye cannot enter the kingdom of God." One must not only die daily, but every day we must be born again.

In reality, we are still children. We want to find a playmate for our thoughts and feelings.

I wondered if that was true: if they were all really children wrapped up in adult bodies, like children's books hidden in the middle of dull, long adult books, the kind with no pictures or conversations.