“I'd give all the wealth that years have piled, the slow result of life's decay, To be once more a little child for one bright summer day.”
In this quote by Lewis Carroll, the speaker expresses a longing for the innocence and joy of childhood. The use of the phrase "all the wealth that years have piled" suggests that the speaker would give up everything they have accumulated over the years in exchange for the carefree happiness of being a child again, even if it's just for a single day. This sentiment highlights the idea that the simplicity and wonder of childhood are valued above material possessions or adult responsibilities. The speaker is nostalgic for the purity and freedom of youth, emphasizing the idea that the passing of time can erode these qualities that are so cherished in childhood.
In today's fast-paced society, where adulthood often comes with its own set of stress and responsibilities, Lewis Carroll's desire to return to the simple joys of childhood for even just one day resonates with many people. The quote serves as a reminder to cherish the little moments and to embrace the innocence and wonder that comes with being a child.
Example 1: This quote by Lewis Carroll beautifully captures the longing many adults feel to experience the carefree joys of childhood once again.
Example 2: Reflecting on this line from Lewis Carroll's work, one can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia for the simplicity and innocence of youth.
As we reflect on this quote by Lewis Carroll, we are reminded of the innocence and joy that comes with being a child. Let's take a moment to ponder on the following questions:
“I love the stillness of the wood; I love the music of the rill:I love the couch in pensive moodUpon some silent hill. Scarce heard, beneath yon arching trees, The silver-crested ripples pass; and, like a mimic brook, the breezeWhispers among the grass. Here from the world I win release, Nor scorn of men, nor footstep rude, Break into mar the holy peace Of this great solitude. Here may the silent tears I weepLull the vested spirit into rest, As infants sob themselves to sleep Upon a mothers breast. But when the bitter hour is gone,And the keen throbbing pangs are still, Oh, sweetest then to couch aloneUpon some silent hill!To live in joys that once have been, To put the cold world out of sight,And deck life's drear and barren sceneWith hues of rainbow-light. For what to man the gift of breath, If sorrow be his lot below; If all the day that ends in deathBe dark with clouds of woe?Shall the poor transport of an hourRepay long years of sore distress—The fragrance of a lonely flower Make glad the wilderness? Ye golden house of life's young spring, Of innocence, of love and truth!Bright, beyond all imagining, Thou fairy-dream of youth!I'd give all wealth that years have piled, The slow result of Life's decay, To be once more a little childFor one bright summer's day.”
“Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.”
“In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?”
“I mean, what is an un-birthday present?"A present given when it isn't your birthday, of course."Alice considered a little. "I like birthday presents best," she said at last.You don't know what you're talking about!" cried Humpty Dumpty. "How many days are there in a year?"Three hundred and sixty-five," said Alice.And how many birthdays have you?"One.”
“The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright-- And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done-- "It's very rude of him," she said, "To come and spoil the fun!" The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying overhead-- There were no birds to fly. In a Wonderland they lie Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summer die.”
“Once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people.”