Zoe Bell Quotes

My mother would give my brothers and me a pile of catalogues and let us pick what we wanted for Christmas.

I don't really remember a time younger than 5 years old that I didn't have skates on because all I can remember is every day, tying up my skates and a big smile on my face, excited to go on the ice.

Neither my mom nor my dad ever bought me any comic books. Certainly not for Christmas. I suspect that doing so would have violated the Parents' Code.

I started skating at age 2 on roller skates on the South Side of Chicago, where I grew up. By age 4, roller-skating was something I really enjoyed. Everyone around me wanted to do the 'roll bounce' thing, but I was pretty much only interested in going fast.

When I was 3, my parents strapped on a pair of Playskool plastic roller skates to my feet, and that's where the story begins.

I want kids to enjoy skating and I think it's a great workout.

For Christmas every year, my mother used to give me those cheap little diaries that would tell your horoscope and provide a little blank slot for each day.

I like to roller skate. I have been roller skating since I was eight.

Roller-skating and ice-skating are two different things - I found that out the hard way.

In summers, while growing up in India, we often slept in the courtyard under the stars.

I think it's hilarious at 40 years old to bring out my roller skates from 'Starlight Express.' I find the humor and even the sadness in it hilarious and something to celebrate.

I would literally sit at home and have my friends take pictures of me on my little Canon camera that my mom gave me for Christmas.

My earliest memory was going to my grandma's house, milking the cows, and collecting the eggs from the chickens.

I had a Commodore, and then I remember getting a Nintendo for Christmas and it being a total game-changer. And the hours that I would spend playing the video game and trying to convince my mother that it was improving my hand-eye coordination. It was a worthy use of time. It made my hand-eye coordination better!

I grew up in New Jersey and played sports and rode my bike around. It was a really nice time - kids didn't have cellphones then - and you knew everyone in the town.

God, I'm glad I grew up in a time when kids followed sports in the newspaper and on TV and knew every sport.

My parents moved to Los Angeles when I was really young, but I spent every summer with my grandparents, and I'd stay with my grandfather on the farm in Longview. He was retired from the railroad, and he had a small farm with some cows and some pigs. I remember part of my youth was feeding hogs and plowing fields and stuff, so that's a part of me.

When I was 12, we went from Glasgow to Aberdeen on a school trip. It was called fresh air fortnight.

For any American who had the great and priceless privilege of being raised in a small town there always remains with him nostalgic memories... And the older he grows the more he senses what he owed to the simple honesty and neighborliness, the integrity that he saw all around him in those days.

Growing up, I didn't have any comic books, at all. But my friend had a trunk full of them, so comic books were like candy for me. I would go over to his house for a sleep-over, and I would just be devouring everything I could get my hands on. I knew the sleep-over was going to be over, and I was going to go back to my house and it was going to be Kipling.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be.

Never shall I forget those naked, clean-swept little Canadian towns, one just like the other. Before I was twelve years old, I must have lived in fifty of them.

...and again she wished for Sherwood, and the dappled roof of leaves that never weighed upon her. She pulled her scarf closer around her and thought, I would rather live in a hut in the woods; a hut like the one of my first memories, with a clean-swept dirt floor, and a brown-eyed boy watching me from behind his mother's skirts as I watched him from behind mine.

Proust, more perspicaciously than any other writer, reminds us that the 'walks' of childhood form the raw material of our intelligence.

The smells of Christmas are the smells of childhood [p. 53]