“Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.”

“Soft and sun-warm, see her glide”

“And marbled clouds go scudding byThe many-steepled London sky.”

“...every sight and sound inspiring, leading one far out of himself, yet feeding and building up his individuality.”

“Most places we leave in childhood grow less, not more, fancy.”

“In the dark beside me, she smelled of sweat and sunshine and vanilla,”

“In increments both measurable and not, our childhood is stolen from us -- not always in one momentous event but often in a series of small robberies, which add up to the same loss.”