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Anna Quindlen Quotes about Children - Page 2

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I conveniently forgot to remember that people only have two hands, or, as another parent once said of having a third child, it's time for a zone defense instead of man-to-man.

I conveniently forgot to remember that people only have two hands, or, as another parent once said of having a third child, it's time for a zone defense instead of man-to-man.

Anna Quindlen
Children, Men, Hands

Having children can smooth the relationship, too. Mother and daughter are now equals. That is hard to imagine, even harder to accept, for among other things, it means realizing that your own mother felt this way, too--unsure of herself, weak in the knees, terrified about what in the world to do with you. It means accepting that she was tired, inept, sometimes stupid; that she, too, sat in the dark at 2:00 A.M. with a child shrieking across the hall and no clue to the child's trouble.

Anna Quindlen
Mother, Daughter, Children
Anna Quindlen (2010). “Living Out Loud”, p.101, Ballantine Books

Raising a child is a little like Picasso's work; in the beginning he did very conventional representational things. Cubism came after he had the rules down pat.

Anna Quindlen
Children, Littles, Cubism

Jason Oliver C. Smith, a big dumb guy who was tan, died March 30 of lung cancer and old age. He was 13 years old and lived in New Jersey, Pennsylvania. At the time of his death, his license was current and he had had all of his shots. He is survived by two adults, three children, a cat named Daisy who drove him nuts, and his lifelong companion, Pudgy, whose spaying he always regretted, as well as a host of fleas who have gone elsewhere, probably to Pudgy. He will be missed by all, except Daisy. He never bit anyone, which is more than you can say for most of us.

Anna Quindlen
Dog, Children, Cancer

If I get the forty additional years statisticians say are likely coming to me, I could fit in at least one, maybe two new lifetimes. Sad that only one of those lifetimes can include being the mother of young children.

Anna Quindlen
Mother, Children, Years
Anna Quindlen (2010). “Living Out Loud”, p.60, Ballantine Books

We are writers. We danced with words, as children, in what became familiar patterns. The words became our friends and our companions, and without even saying it aloud, a thought danced with them: I can do this. This is who I am.

Anna Quindlen
Children, Writing, Who I Am

Recently a young mother asked for advice. What, she wanted to know, was she to do with a 7-year-old who was obstreperous, outspoken, and inconveniently willful? "Keep her," I replied.... The suffragettes refused to be polite in demanding what they wanted or grateful for getting what they deserved. Works for me.

Anna Quindlen
Mother, Children, Grateful

My child looked at me and I looked back at him in the delivery room, and I realized that out of a sea of infinite possibilities it had come down to this: a specific person, born on the hottest day of the year, conceived on a Christmas Eve, made by his father and me miraculously from scratch.

Anna Quindlen
Children, Father, Years
Anna Quindlen (2010). “Living Out Loud”, p.209, Ballantine Books

Decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.

Anna Quindlen
Children, Independent Bookstores, Reading Books
Anna Quindlen (2010). “Thinking Out Loud: On the Personal, the Political, the Public and the Private”, p.114, Ballantine Books

What had I expected of the first child? Everything. Rocket scientist. Neurosurgeon. Designated hitter. We talked wisely at cocktail parties about the sad mistake our mothers had made in pinning all their hopes and dreams on us. We were full of it.

Anna Quindlen
Mother, Dream, Children
Anna Quindlen (2010). “Living Out Loud”, p.129, Ballantine Books

I'm boggled by the idea of being an only child. I know nothing at all (I'm happy to say) about having had a cold and withholding mother, about being divorced. The more I've been writing novels, each novel I've written has become successively less grounded in anything approaching autobiography.

Anna Quindlen
Mother, Children, Writing
Source: urbanmoms.ca

My father expected his first child to be a boy, and when it didn't turn out that way he didn't let the fact get in the way of a good story.

Anna Quindlen
Children, Father, Boys

I think what saved me, as a writer, is that there are really two breaking points in my life. One was when I was 19 and my mother died, and one was when I was 31 and my first child was born. And that sort of gave me a kind of rebirth that I think has been invaluable to me as a novelist, in terms of seeing the world anew.

Anna Quindlen
Mother, Children, Thinking

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