Christopher Gorham Quotes

I remember visiting my grandmother Adele in Ponce Inlet, Florida, when I was three years old, and she had an IBM electric typewriter. I thought that this electric typewriter was about the most fascinating toy in the world - I liked the little bell and the sounds and the feel of the keys and especially the erase key.

I have a photograph of myself when I was 2 years of age, and I don't recognize the person in the photograph. She doesn't look anything like me, and I can't find any trace of her in me physically. And yet I remember her very, very well - even her anxiety.

When I was a kid, I was hugely impacted by 'Jurassic Park.' I think I was just the right age when that movie came out, and I remember running around my town like a Velociraptor.

I still have the Triumph Palm Beach I was given for Christmas when I was 11. By today's standards, it is heavy and slow, but was my pride and joy at the time.

When I was very small, maybe 8 years old, we had a big radio that stood on four legs, and it had a cross piece underneath it, and I used to take a pillow and crawl under the radio.

My first trip to Mexico was with my dad because of his Spanish records. That was back in 1958. I found a picture of me when I was eight dressed as a little senorita.

I remember myself, age five, sitting on a porch overlooking a very muddy road. The day was rainy. I was wearing rubber boots, yellow - no, not yellow, green - and for all I know, I'm still there.

When I was little, my parents took me to the San Diego Zoo. I was about 5 years old, and I got a tour of the zoo that hardly anybody else has ever had.

Didn't we, like our grandchildren, begin with a childhood we thought would never end? Now, all of a sudden, I'm older than my parents were when I thought they were old.

I listen to tapes a lot. I have a car that only (has a cassette player). I like the nostalgic factor.

There is nothing fine about being a child: it is fine, when we are old, to look back to when we were children.

Yogi Bear changed my life in ways that I can't explain because it's not a full feature on me.

And what did I think when I was small and why did I forget? And what else will I forget when I grow older? And if you forget is it as if it never happened? Will none of the things you saw or thought or dreamed matter?

I was set down from the carrier's cart at the age of three; and there with a sense of bewilderment and terror my life in the village began.

At 68 I'm every age I ever was. I always think of that. I'm not just 68. I'm also 55 and 21 and three. Oh especially three.

I think I saw "Predator" when I was six. So I knew from a very young age that it wasn't real, but I just loved it.

I'm eighty-three and homeless. It was the same when World War II ended. The Army kept me on because I could type, so I was typing other people's discharges and stuff. And my feeling was "Please, I've done everything I was supposed to do. Can I go home now?" That what I feel right now. I've written books. Lots of them. Please, I've done everything I'm supposed to do. Can I go home now? I've wondered where home is. It's when I was in Indianapolis when I was nine years old. Had a dog, a cat, a brother, a sister.

I look at the field, and I think about the boy who just made the touchdown. I think that these are the glory days for that boy, and this moment will just be another story someday because all the people who make touchdowns and home runs will become somebody's dad. And when his children look at his yearbook photograph, they will think that their dad was rugged and handsome and looked a lot happier than they are. I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.

I took the stairs and felt like my childhood took the elevator.

My nickname when I was young was Teddy, so people would call me Teddy Bear.

In Vienna, when I was a year-and-a-half or two years-old. I remember it because I remember the little blue raincoat I used to wear, and how the buttons felt. I liked to walk on the street in front of our house when it was raining, and jump into all the puddles. That's weird, but that's my earliest memory.

Drawn to childhood, the old man will seek it in a thousand different ways.

I got my first laugh when my mother entered me in a baby contest.

My dad took me to my first movie.

A strong experience in the present awakens in the creative writer a memory of an earlier experience (usually belonging to his childhood) from which there now proceeds a wish which finds its fulfilment in the creative work.