Caution is the eldest child of wisdom
A bird sings, a child prattles, but it is the same hymn; hymn indistinct, inarticulate, but full of profound meaning.
Women play with their beauty as children do with their knives. They wound themselves with it.
A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
There are fathers who do not love their children; there is no grandfather who does not adore his grandson.
A great artist is a great man in a great child.
Our acts make or mar us, we are the children of our own deeds.
Doing nothing is happiness for children and misery for old men.
Blessed be Providence which has given to each his toy: the doll to the child, the child to the woman, the woman to the man, the man to the devil!
No one ever keeps a secret so well as a child.
The three great problems of this century; the degradation of man in the proletariat, the subjection of women through hunger, the atrophy of the child by darkness.
Don't educate your children to be rich. Educate them to be happy, so they know the value of things, not the price.
The mother...swinging the children by pulling on a length of string, while at the same time she kept and eye on them with that protective watchfulness, half animal, half angelic, which is the quality of motherhood.
Mothers arms are made of tenderness, And sweet sleep blesses the child who lies therein.
A little girl without a doll is almost as unhappy, and quite as impossible, as a woman without children." from chapter VIII of Les Miserables
...mothers are often fondest of the child which has caused them the greatest pain.
Children at once accept joy and happiness with quick familiarity, being themselves naturally all happiness and joy.
I exist," murmurs someone whose name is Everyone. "I'm young and in love; I am old and I want rest; I work, I prosper, I do good business, I have houses to rent, money in State Securities; I am happy, I have wife and children; I like all these things and I want to go on living, so leave me alone."..
Slowly he took out the clothes in which, ten years beforem Cosette had left Montfermeil; first the little dress, then the black scarf, then the great heavy child's shoes Cosette could still almost have worn, so small was her foot, then the vest of very thich fustian, then the knitted petticoat, the
Separated lovers cheat absence by a thousand fancies which have their own reality. They are prevented from seeing one another and they cannot write; nevertheless they find countless mysterious ways of corresponding, by sending each other the song of birds, the scent of flowers, the laughter of child
No one can keep a secret better than a child.
This child whom we Love, Brings daylight Into our soul.
If you look in the eyes of the young, you see flame. If you look in the eyes of the old, you see light.