Beautiful Quotes About Children
Here are some insightful sayings:
- Embrace the innocence of the child within you.
- They hold no grudges or envy, and even in adversity, they do not complain.
- How could we not fall in love with these small beings?
- Every child is an artist; the challenge lies in keeping that artistry alive as they grow.
- When you hold a child, you often find that you are the one in need of that embrace.
- A child’s tears can be more heart-wrenching than those of an adult.
- Stripping a child of their dignity may lead them to commit wrongful acts.
- Give a child love, laughter, and peace.
Despite their apparent frailty, it is this vulnerability that has the power to unite men and women in life.
- I wish I could remain a child forever, free from pretense, competition, and hatred.
- We want children to grow up understanding that reading is as essential as eating, sleeping, and playing—activities to be enjoyed daily.
- Endurance is the first lesson a child must learn, as it will be their greatest necessity.
- A child whose education is confined to the school is a child who has not truly learned.
- When a child arrives, joy follows, and light shines forth.
- The upbringing of a child should ideally begin twenty years before their birth, focusing on educating the mother.
- There is no safer place for a child to sleep than in their father’s room.
- Just as meat without salt and an uneducated child can go to waste, so too is the child’s potential compromised without proper guidance.
- A child nurtured in a secure environment learns to trust themselves.
- Give me four years to educate children, and the seeds I plant will never be uprooted.
- When conversing with a child, I feel both tenderness for their current state and respect for what they will become.
Expressions About Children
Here are some delightful expressions:
- Childhood is a blend of sweet breaths, rainy clouds, and fragrant aromas.
- Childhood is a velvet world adorned with heart-of-gold and pure souls.
- Childhood is a dream tale, a poem of hope, and an expression of sweetness.
- Children possess the sweetest hearts—pure, innocent, and genuine, devoid of hatred and malice, their smiles are unyielding.
- The feelings of children are delicate, their conversations enchanting, and their interactions loving; if wronged today, they forgive by tomorrow, for their hearts remain untainted.
- How can we resist the charm of these little beings?
- Allow me to play and run, chase butterflies in my youth, pick flowers in mischief, and race the river in innocence, only to lay down on the green grass when weary.
- Childhood is a blank page, a life of purity with a smiling face, an innocent heart, and a soul of purity.
- They live each day as it comes, not burdened by thoughts or plans for the future, unconcerned about what tomorrow holds.
- In the laughter of children lies the vastness of the skies, the width of the seas, and the sparkle of stars, along with the fresh scent of earth after rain.
- Childhood is springtime, blossoms, and garlands of jasmine adorning the beauty of life.
- Through your gentle interactions with children, you are met with their unwavering love, respect, and attachment.
- Childhood is a story of dreams, a poem of aspirations, and a moment of sweetness.
- Childhood embodies the essence of the spirit and the soul of life.
- Provide a child with love, laughter, and peace, not despair.
- Give me four years to educate children, and the seeds I plant will be everlasting.
- Grant us a child for eight years, and they will be molded forever.
- The heart is a child yearning for its desires.
- A beloved child has many names.
- Money in the hands of a woman does not last, and a child in a man’s care does not thrive.
- Childhood is sweet breaths, cloudbursts, and fragrant breezes.
Reflections on Childhood
Here are some poignant reflections:
- As I flip through the fragrant pages of my life’s chronicles, I see joyful, radiant days brimming with vitality, intertwined with gardens of genuine love sprawling at my windows, accompanied by the scent of jasmine in the dawn of renewed spirit.
- Childhood is a tale of dreams, a poem of hope, and moments of sweetness.
- I recall my grandmother igniting lamps in our home, illuminating the captivating tales she shared while holding onto her tattered notebooks filled with timeless advice and wisdom, always concerned for our well-being.
- The world of childhood is understood only by those who have lived it. It is a beautiful realm, governed by love and innocence, devoid of animosity and spite.
- Oh, how beautiful those days were. I long for that innocent childhood that has never truly departed my spirit.
- Childhood is a velvet realm adorned with radiant hearts and magnificent souls.
- I mourn the beautiful dreams lost and the magnificent virtuous world we glimpsed through the innocent eyes of childhood.
- Childhood is a season of blossoms, garlands of jasmine adorning life’s beauty; it represents the past and the beautiful times, the essence of innocence, clarity, and purity, filled with the anticipation of growing up only to wish to remain children forever.
Thoughts About Childhood
First Reflection:
We have grown yet still search for safety, truth, loyalty, and pure hearts akin to those of children—hearts that do not know hatred or betrayal but are innocent and pure. Yes, we have matured, yet our love for childhood remains, and we wish to return to those days when nostalgia pulls us towards a distant past filled with innocent days and joyous moments, making us aware that some days will never return, some years have been lost, and some days shall never come again. We reminisce about those years and feel an intense yearning to return to them, free from constraints and troubles, living in the purity and innocence of children from long ago. Now, we find ourselves burdened by worries and false illusions, existing in a single reality, each unique in our circumstances, lost and unsure of where that nostalgia leads us.
Second Reflection:
In the laughter of children lies the vastness of the skies, the breadth of the seas, and the glitter of stars, accompanied by running streams and the earthy scent following rain. Their hearts are beautiful: pure, clear, innocent, and sincere; they hold no malice and know no hatred, their smiles are constant. Their lives revolve around simple joys: eating, playing, and resting—a respite from their playful endeavors. How wonderfully we interpret the meaning of innocence, touching our hearts deeply! Their emotions are keen, their conversations captivating, and their actions filled with love. If wronged today, they forget by tomorrow, as a kind word can erase any grievance, for their hearts are pure and bear no ill will towards anyone. How splendid childhood is, as their laughter embodies innocence, their simplicity reflects their lives—they bear no grudges, no envy, and if misfortune befalls them, they do not complain; they live in the present, without worry for the future, or thought of what may come.
Third Reflection:
Greetings to the era of childhood; it is the greatest joy of the heart. A child’s smile is like a poem celebrating the essence of purity, so let us cherish the laughter of children, and may we see their radiant faces. Oh, Lord, bless a child’s smile so we may see the joy reflected upon their faces. And, dear Lord, dry their tears under Your care for the small ones when they stumble. Let their innocence shine through the generations, embracing purity and radiating delightful fragrances. Protect the innocence of childhood, for it is my fear of separation that pains my heart.
Childhood Poem
Poet Abdul Karim Matouq Al-Marzouqi wrote:
What sorrow has befallen you this evening?
The wood of the ceiling or the boards?
Or does the weeping
Come unbidden, each time
Winter returns?
And the rain sings
Upon the roof a lullaby?
For I am alone, with my shadow
Fearing the roof might collapse.
O God, I pray
And wish that this pouring rain will keep its promise,
For the earth is thirsty for it
And the ceiling can no longer bear its burden.
It was prayer that accompanied the drought of yesterday
And the earth’s craving
For pastures and seeds.
And if summer casts its gaze upon her thirsty plight,
She blooms, swears to renew itself.
The water dripped from the ceiling caught us off-guard,
And we hastily gathered our pots
To catch the overflow.
The wool, once damp,
Turns foul-smelling; thus, the incense
In corners of the house reverberates.
In every pot filled with water and mud, there lies a prayer.
Oh, if only the pouring rain
Could drench the roofs of the wealthy
Where shall we pour the water? It is besieged
Around a house barely enclosed by walls.
We look to the heavens,
Hands soaked with water and mud,
When suddenly we saw the light
Shining from the eyes of the ceiling, while burdens were lifted.
It was as if the ceiling, blind,
Finally saw, the pride of shattered remains
Resting in the morning light.
It was as though the clouds had fled from the sun,
On the promise of reunion
With the tomorrow at the evening hour.
The water returned the clay of the earth back to its place,
Nonetheless, permanence demands we carry the earth’s clay up to the ceiling
And maintain the structure
In conflict, every time winter approaches.
Scene Eleven:
These were the stories of grandpa, when the
winter hearth provided us warmth.
The land’s brutality upon families
Cascades like a sea tempest.
How many times we embraced warmth,
United amidst the burning embers.
Fear’s chill was harsher,
Providing warmth a fleeting escape.
These were the tales of grandpa, of enduring the days of adversity.
Each time he gazed upon us
His eyes would flash, falling into despair.
His hand was a page from the past,
And his eyes an open book;
We read the first chapter,
Turning another page
Of the melting of our lives.
Between the sea salt and the sun
That drenched our skin with a sunburn’t face before the gray touched it.
And a chest, which chewed tobacco and relished in youth.
These were grandpa’s stories, while the tobacco tin
Resembled a burning coffin—
His hand extended shyly like a maiden’s
Upon encountering a stranger along the road,
Suddenly trembling with steps hurried.
He who fills this passage was nothing but he,
Only he who walks close,
My grandpa, trembling as he reached for the canister,
His hands shook,
And you could see yesterday reflected in his eyes.
He choked on smoke from sheer sorrow.
As a gleam of despair wasn’t dimmed in his eyes.
He reached into the past, embracing it eagerly,
My grandpa was watching the smoke,
As one recalls a lost status.
Scene Twelve:
I still describe that day,
A fateful signature of destiny.
I still find myself powerless against the search for meaning
Conveying echoes of yesterday in every story I hear.
As the impressions flicker in all expressions,
Within every interpretation remains a trace.
I still hold on to some tales from our neighbor,
A resonance of familiarity, still vibrant.
After a century and twenty-two years, time diminished you,
And your grave now appears smaller than a prayer rug,
Oh, dear neighbor, the elder among us by time paradox.
Oh, neighbor, younger in physical stature,
Yet holding life’s most profound secrets.
How many nights I held you within,
As we wandered beneath lantern light, heedless and free.
We severed the threads of night,
Surpassing the shadows, none remained after.
Only some traces of our passage
From before the light snuck in.
And we buried the path with laughter, as one would roll up
The carpets once winter graced the morning.
We reached Fatouma’s home following the mourning
Of her son Ahmed’s sea loss.
The cries of heartache escalated with every new arrival,
As we flitted across women’s shoulders,
Wiping tears from one eye while cradling the next,
And I questioned the sadness that enveloped you,
Moments after, you were laughing beside me.
At the time, I was nine years old,
As familiarity between people often grows; did you not?
So you shall see the essence of familiarity be a beacon, a faith.
Now that I have matured,
I’ve realized what people have lost from love.
And thus, understanding tormented my heart.
Oh, neighbor of mine, aged beyond the years among us,
And neighbor, so slight in form and mass.
Oh, ocean of longing—
Oh, if only you could return to us now,
What would you do?