Cassandra Wilson Quotes

I liked the Ballarat train as a child.

I sleep with my baby blanket, Kiki, that my nana made for me.

St. Louis has always been special to me.

I still sleep with my baby blanket.

When I was a kid, I had a rag doll named Lucy, whom I took everywhere with me. I lost her when I was 12.

I have the same blankie that I've had since childhood.

I love Montclair. I loved it; it was great for my kids. I raised them all there, brought them up through the Montclair school system, and two of my daughters went to Montclair State.

I still feel inside like a little kid from Spokane with a dream.

For me, I'm still always that kid from Bolton.

I saved up my pocket money when I was about five or six years old. I just wanted to buy a CD, and at that age, I didn't care about what it was, and I ended up buying 'The Teletubbies Say 'Eh-Oh!'' I started off strong.

One of my first memories is running up and down the theatre at Wakefield Opera House.

Baltimore will always have a piece of my heart.

When I was a little boy, I was fascinated by the way my dad used to laugh at the telly, and from a very early age, I had an idea of what was funny and why people laughed.

The time of day when there was quiet and serenity was every night when we gathered in my parents' bedroom and knelt down together and prayed.

Rich Aurelia was my favorite growing up.

I love Boston, and I had a very lovely childhood in Massachusetts.

I was really inspired by keeping alive these things of my childhood.

My grandmother knitted me a crochet top when I was 15. I still fit into it and will never give it away.

My first bat was a Duncan Fearnley 405, size two. I was aged about four. I loved that bat, such great memories. I gave it to a family member and never saw it again.

I 'ad a toy when I was little,' said Suzy. She frowned for a moment, then added, 'Can't remember what it was. It moved and made me laugh.

The nostalgia I have been cherishing all these years is a hypertrophied sense of lost childhood, not sorrow for lost banknotes.

Marya pinned out her childhood like a butterfly. She considered it the way a mathematician considers an equation.

She looked into the distance, and the old terror flamed up for an instant, then sank again. Edna heard her father's voice and her sister Margaret's. She heard the barking of an old dog that was chained to the sycamore tree. The spurs of the cavalry officer clanged as he walked across the porch. There was the hum of bees, and the musky odor of pinks filled the air. (last lines)

is it like this every night, while we're asleep?

When I was 9 years old, Star Trek came on.