David Schwimmer Quotes

When I was about 2 years old, I found a bee that had been stepped on on the foot path, and so I picked it up to rescue it, and it stung me on the hand. From that day forward, I've been terrified of bees.

My dad took me to my first movie. It was 'The Greatest Show on Earth' in 1952, a movie of such scale it was actually a traumatic experience.

My childhood was so traumatic.

The most profound memory I have from my childhood is burning down my house at 6 years old.

My father took me and my about-to-be-traumatized friends to Stanley Kubrick's '2001' for my 10th birthday party.

Well, I was about six or seven, and my mother and father separated.

One of my few childhood memories is as an eight-year-old, refused permission to watch the Hitchcock season on Irish television, sneakily viewing 'The Birds' though a crack in the living-room door. It transformed my hitherto perfectly enjoyable half-mile walk to school, down a country lane patrolled by watchful birds, into a terrifying ordeal.

I was attacked by a dog when I was a toddler, and my injuries were so bad, I spent quite a bit of my childhood in and out of hospital. Books were absolutely my salvation during those years.

And having suffered for part of the war when I was a child. I was too young to really understand what was going on but one of my favorite pieces of animation now is that Goodbye Blue Sky in The Wall because that deals directly with that period in time.

I always wondered what it would be like to have a normal childhood.

My first experience in a movie theater was Dick Tracy. There was a scene with a guy with a Tommy gun and a wall of fire behind him. I panicked, screamed, and jumped out of my seat. And I ran six New York city blocks, running into the street and almost got hit by a bunch of cars and had my mom chasing after a panic-stricken four-year-old.

I saw 'The Shining' when I was too young with my dad in San Francisco in the hotel room.

When I was eight years old, or I may have been younger, my aunt picked me up and threw me in the pool and I didn't know how to swim. It was like, "Conquer your fear and just get on with it." It must have made an impact on me.

For my father the one calamity was that my brother and sister and I never learned to swim. My father, who was very macho, was a strong swimmer and was terribly disappointed to have children who didn't swim. Once when my mother was sitting in a beach chair - I can still see the big umbrella - she called to my father, "Throw them in! Throw them in! They'll swim!" So he did. Then he looked down, and there were the three Sendak children lying perfectly still underwater, not fighting for life!

And this is what we called our childhoods. Little more than a dress rehearsal for adding our digits to the butcher's bill of war.

Folks working late, I had a babysitter. I ain't about to sit here and name her. I was almost 8 when she came in late, woke me up with a game to play. Did a few things that it's hard to say. Told me to keep that secret safe. I'm trying to act like it ain't real. Had my innocence just stripped from me, and I still don't know how to feel.

I remember when I was a kid my first real confrontation with space travel was when the Challenger exploded and I remember how traumatic that was for me, because I remember watching that on the news and all the children in our class were watching.

I was in love with Tina Goodman since I was three and her parents came popping out of the trash cans. I think it made a big impression on me.

The little boy leaned against his father's chest and slowly nodded. "Yes," he said. "I heard all of the names, but I don't remember the other two… just the man who hurt Gillian." "That's the name I most want," Brodick said softly. "Who is he, Alec?" "Alec, please," Gillian began. "Tell me, Alec. Who is he?" "Baron," Alec whispered. "His name is Baron.

in her dreams, blood tasted like fizzy strawberry soda. If you drank it too fast, you got brain freeze. When she was older, after she'd licked a cut on her finger, the taste of that became the taste in her dreams: copper and tears.

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.

We had a teacher, named Mr. Brown, and he was writing something on the board once - he was writing something on the board, and he farted. And you would have thought kids had seen the face of God. Kids weren't even laughing; they were just sitting there screaming, just screaming. Kids had to get carted out; kids were screaming. Kids had to get carted out, and they were going to the nurses' office. Kids are crying in the hallway. 'Oh, this is our 9/11.' And it was. It was their 9/11 'cause they never thought anything like that could ever happen.

I've loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school.

I wasn't crying, my eyes were running. My eyes were running because there were pieces of zombies all over my toys. Jesus.

There's blood, a taste I remember. It tastes of orange popsicles, penny gumballs, red licorice, gnawed hair, dirty ice.