The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing.
When I was a little boy, my dream was to play baseball and leave Cuba.
Men at any age truly never grow up. All, no matter what importance they may have attained, are still no more than little boys.
Unless artists can remember what it was to be a little boy, they are only half complete as artist and as man.
If you spend any time with a man, you'll realize that we're all still little boys.
As children, women are encouraged to be "little ladies." Little ladies don't scream as vociferously as little boys, and they are chastised more severely for throwing tantrums or showing temper: "high spirits" are expected and therefore tolerated in little boys; docility and resignation are the corresponding traits expected of little girls. Now, we tend to excuse a show of temper by a man where we would not excuse an identical tirade from a woman: women are allowed to fuss and complain, but only a man can bellow in rage.
I will say the most raw joy I've experienced reading has probably come from the times I've been reading with my little boys.
I've known Al Gore since he was born. He has been the best little boy, he was a boring child, and he has never done anything wrong.
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
A little boy who's discovered the monster under the bed is actually real, and it's screwing Mommy.
Little Boy's performance is authentic, natural, moving & inspiring.
When Satan cannot get a great sin in he will let a little one in, like the thief who goes and finds shutters all coated with iron and bolted inside. At last he sees a little window in a chamber. He cannot get in, so he puts a little boy in, that he may go round and open the back door. So the devil has always his little sins to carry about with him to go and open back doors for him, and we let one in and say, 'O, it is only a little one.' Yes, but how that little one becomes the ruin of the entire man!
My mother told me I said to her, at age three, 'I'm going to go to Italy and get my father in a tractor.' 'You've never seen quite so fierce a little boy as you were,' she told me. She tried to explain that I couldn't get my father in a tractor. Apparently I looked at her and narrowed my eyes and said, 'In that case, I'm going in a double-decker bus,' and stomped off. Which is kind of funny, but it's very sad, as well.
I still feel like a little boy on the set, watching the movie magic being made.
It's no wonder we're all such a mess, is it? We're like Tom Hanks in Big. Little boys and girls trapped in adult bodies and forced to get on with it.
I definitely went through my magic phase. I think all little boys do at some point or another - they get fascinated by magic tricks.
I wanted to be a bus driver when I was a kid. I look at bus driving through the eyes of a little boy. I see it as glamorous.
There are guerrilla armies that make little boys kill their own families. Such acts rip out the soul and make space for beasts to grow inside. Armies need beasts, don’t they? Pet beasts, to do their terrible work!
Walking abroad, one is the admiration of all little boys, and meets an approving glance from every eye of elderly.
These powerbrokers, which bomb innocent countries and slaughter people, and, you know, pump the food chain full of garbage and just everything else they do, it's probably something fun for them. They really get off on being bad little boys.
I don't know [why we're here]. People sometimes say to me, 'Why don't you admit that the humming bird, the butterfly, the Bird of Paradise are proof of the wonderful things produced by Creation?' And I always say, well, when you say that, you've also got to think of a little boy sitting on a river bank, like here, in West Africa, that's got a little worm, a living organism, in his eye and boring through the eyeball and is slowly turning him blind. The Creator God that you believe in, presumably, also made that little worm. Now I personally find that difficult to accommodate.
He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by the fire not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.
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.
Turn around, and the people you thought you knew might change. Your little boy might now live half a world away. Your beautiful daughter might be sneaking out at night. Your ex-husband might by dying by degrees. This is the reason that dancers learn, early on, how to spot while doing pirouettes: we all want to be able to find the place where we started.
... there had been the two little boys. Now they were gone, too. They loved her and called her and sent her e-mails and would still snuggle up to her to be petted when they were in the mood, but they were men, and though they would always be at the center of her life, she was no longer at the center of theirs.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: