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Childhood and genius have the same master-organ in common -- inquisitiveness.

Your children are not your children. They are sons and daughters of life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you. And though they are with you, they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls. For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but strive not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You make 'em, I amuse 'em.

What is most appealing about young folks, after all, is the changes, not the still photograph of finished character but the movie, the soul in flux.

The rules for parents are but three... Love, Limit, and Let them be.

The reason why kids are crazy is because nobody can face the responsibility of bringing them up.

The monster a child knows best and is most concerned with [is] the monster he feels or fears himself to be.

Sometimes I think children are the worst people alive. And even if they're not - even if some smiling toddler is as pure as Evian - it's only a matter of time ... As far as I can tell, the nicest thing you can say about children is that they haven't done anything terrible yet.

People drag their progeny around with them like a ball and chain, like some terrible deadweight that hinders their every move - and that, as often as not, effectively winds up killing them.

No one ever owns his youth or the women he loves.