Scott Rudin Quotes

If a kid disappears, now there's Amber Alerts: they know this-this-this. In the '50s, we kids wandered around. Nobody knew what you were doing.

Beijing was such a different city. There were so few cars, I could walk in the middle of the road. In the summer, the streetlamps attracted swirling bugs. I loved those bugs: crickets, praying mantis, all kinds of beetles. I also have a vivid memory of dazzling sunlight coming out of the sky.

I had the most magical childhood, running free and going anywhere I wanted to in my head.

I grew up taking the Long Island Railroad from Baldwin, New York into Penn Station and walking upstairs to Madison Square Garden. Those are some of my favorite memories.

What happens when all the parts of childhood are soldered down, when the young no longer have the time or space to play in their family's garden, cycle home in the dark with the stars and moon illuminating their route, walk down through the woods to the river, lie on their backs on hot July days in the long grass, or watch cockleburs, lit by morning sun, like bumblees quivering on harp wires? What then?

We used to all come outside when the streetlights came on and prowl the neighborhood in a pack, a herd of kids on banana-seat bikes and minibikes. The grown-ups looked so silly framed in their living-room and kitchen windows. They complained about their days and signed deep sighs of depression and loss. They talked about how spoiled and lucky children were these days. We will never be that way, we said, we will never say those things.

In my childhood, I used to usually visit Christmas fairs in our area and at school with my friends and I really miss those days.

When I look back to my childhood, many concrete scenes come to my mind, good ones and bad ones.

You played 'Snake' on it. That's what we had a cell phone for, when my mother would let us use it. When you had it, you set it down at the table, you set it down in the other room, we ate, and you enjoyed your time with your family.

When I was growing up, there wasn't too much technology. There weren't so many channels that we were glued to on TV. We had to go outside and create our games. Kids had the habit of being active and exercising, just enjoying the fresh air.

I grew up without TV, I grew up listening to radio, I grew up reading.

I have very strong memories of my early years. In fact, I remember the house I was born in, and we moved from that house when I was less than ten months old. I have drawn pictures of it and shown my mother, and she was shocked because we have no photos of the place, and I was very accurate.

When I was young, I was supposed to study in the afternoon, and 4 - 5:30 P.M. was playtime. The entire day would revolve around that time. We would play anything - kabaddi, cricket. Those one and half hours would feel like 5 minutes.

When I was growing up, and periodically going to India to visit my grandmother, my classmates would often ask me about the trains. There was an exotic fascination with people sitting on top of the carriages.

As a child, I had loved history because it showed so many alternative worlds.

I grew up in Newport, so I went to Boston growing up. The city holds a lot of special memories of my childhood, like the Swan Boats and Make Way for Ducklings.

When you get together with childhood friends, for example, there's an intimacy that you instantly have because you share something really profound in your past. There's a shortcut to emotional intimacy if you share your past with somebody. It's really empowering when you're reunited with people who share that.

When I look back to my infancy many images come to mind, beautiful and ugly.

If I had known I'd be on Matador back then in my childhood, it would have blown my mind.

I've never had any interest in retelling stories from my youth.

There are no verdicts to childhood, only consequences, and the bright freight of memory.

I wanted to stay close enough so mom could see me play - where I could go home if I needed to.

I enjoy walking by myself on the same paths where, as a little boy, I delighted in following my father around.

To him who has thought, or done, or suffered much, the level days of his childhood seem at an immeasureable distance, far off as the age of chivalry, or as the line of Sesostris.

It is not fashionable anymore, I suppose, to have a regard for one's mother in the way my brother and I had then, in the mid-1950s, when the noise outside the window was mostly wind and sea chime.