Ed Weeks Quotes

My mum said she remembers me asking her if she'd take me to ballet lessons when I was about two and a half. She said I could barely speak, and yet was asking for ballet lessons.

I've always wanted to write a book relating my experiences growing up as a deaf child in Chicago. Contrary to what people might think, it wasn't all about hearing aids and speech classes or frustrations.

I was ten years old in 1969, and while we lived in Arizona that year, I spent most of the summer staying with family friends in Portland, Oregon while my parents visited Spain. It was an adventure all around.

I had a boom box, but I didn't go too far with it because I had a really, really big one. It was like the size of a suitcase, and I was just a little kid.

At some particular time, when I was 14 years old, I've done something that people didn't expect.

I didn't watch TV in the 90s and early 00s. I was too busy trying to grow out a fringe and perm.

I had a little ladybird ball in the back garden; I think I was about one. I started off early.

I've had a difficult relationship with my hair my whole life.

I try to live my life free of regrets, but I do have one style regret that makes me laugh and cringe at the same time. Mum used to dress my brother and me in bright neon bike pants and big baggy t-shirts that were so long you could barely see our bike pants.

I've always had weird hair, and it's never looked good.

There are a lot of words that I knew first as a reader, and I never put the pieces together in my brain. The word segue I thought was pronounced "seeg," I think until I went to college, which is horribly embarrassing.

My hair is a battle. It's an uphill, fine, baby-haired battle.

Well, I couldn't spell my name until I was eight - my second name. I was so dyslexic. Max I could do. Irons, nope.

I did have Skidz overalls. Remember Skidz, those baggy plaid pants that look like pajamas? So I did rock overalls, but not in purple velvet. I couldn't find those.

…the amount of maintenance involving hair is genuinely overwhelming. Sometimes I think that not having to worry about your hair anymore is the secret upside of death.

It is one of the most discouraging experiences I have ever had, not forgetting the time when I winked at the Queen Mother in London once.

I was for a short time on the baseball team as shortstop, where I was not so good.

I shall begin my story with an experience I had when I was ten and attended our small town's Latin school.

The difference between a childhood and a boyhood must be this: our childhood is what we alone have had; our boyhood is what any boy in our environment would have had.

People get real comfortable with their features. Nobody gets comfortable with their hair. Hair trauma. It's the universal thing.

The days of my youth I remember as nearly always in need of explanation, and not as much fun as advertised in the promotions for board games and breakfast cereal.

I have a theory that children remember two things-when you weren't there and when they threw up.

When I was a little kid, I was the first kid in my neighborhood to have a pet alligator.

Actually, the only memory I have of being a Cub Scout was trying to get my hat back. That was all I did. Run back and forth at my bus stop going "Quit it."

Childhood may have periods of great happiness, but it also has times that must simply be endured. Childhood at its best is a form of slavery tempered by affection.