Dylan Thomas Quotes

I remember wishing there was snow in L.A. And how jealous we used to get of those Christmas specials with kids playing in the snow.

I don't really remember a lot of my childhood.

As I get older, my childhood self becomes more accessible to me, but selectively, in images as stylized and suspect as moments remembered from a novel read years ago.

We seem but to linger in manhood to tell the dreams of our childhood, and they vanish out of memory ere we learn the language.

I'm horrified to find, as I look at these diaries of twenty-five years ago or more, that I don't remember who the people were. "Bill and Tony were constantly in and out. We went to La Jolla" - or something. I haven't the bluest idea who they were!

It’s harder to talk about, but what I really, really, really want for Christmas is just this: I want to be 5 years old again for an hour. I want to laugh a lot and cry a lot. I want to be picked or rocked to sleep in someone’s arms, and carried up to be just one more time. I know what I really want for Christmas: I want my childhood back. People who think good thoughts give good gifts.

And I did feel there was an album to be made about winter that can make you feel the way Sinatra and Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline make me feel - warm, nostalgic and comforted.

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.

Every Christmas we went to my parents' cottage. My big brother would bring his buddies around, and we would play hockey games in the driveway.

Our memory is and always will be as good as time travel gets, and in the meantime time will do the travelling for us.

From my point of view, this is the best time of the year. I don't love heat. I'm a winter guy.

One of the secrets of 'A Christmas Story' is that it's a relatable story. They feel like our family.

'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's.

Right now I’m having amnesia and déjà vu at the same time. I think I’ve forgotten this before.

Years have passed and how I am anxiously watching the twilight of my childhood, quietly sinking, never to rise again.

Where's the snow That fell the year that's fled--where's the snow?

All those years and their moments— Crackling bacon, slamming car doors, Poems tried out on friends, Will be one more archive, One more shaky text.

It snowed last year too: I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.

It is long ere we discover how rich we are. Our history, we are sure, is quite tame: we have nothing to write, nothing to infer. But our wiser years still run back to the despised recollections of childhood. . . .

It was a long time ago now. And it was yesterday.

The year is dying in the night.

In the end of 2012 no one looks back on this year and remembers the nights they got plenty of sleep

I know what I really want for Christmas. I want my childhood back. Nobody is going to give me that. I might give at least the memory of it to myself if I try. I know it doesn't make sense, but since when is Christmas about sense, anyway? It is about a child, of long ago and far away, and it is about the child of now. In you and me. Waiting behind the door of or hearts for something wonderful to happen. A child who is impractical, unrealistic, simpleminded and terribly vulnerable to joy.

Traveling is a way to reverse time, to a small extent, and make a day last a year - or at least forty-five hours - and traveling is an easy way of surrounding ourselves, as in childhood, with what we cannot understand.