Children are the only form of immortality that we can be sure of.

270. A Man among Children will be long a Child, a Child among Men will be soon a Man.

Adulthood does not exist. Man is an eternal child.

All men are my children. What I desire for my own children, and I desire their welfare and happiness both in this world and the next, that I desire for all men. You do not understand to what extent I desire this, and if some of you do understand, you do not understand the full extent of my desire.

The only true immortality lies in one's children.

[Letter to his friend, Richard Heuberger]

Few things in this world are as important as raising children. In every age, every era, every time and place, children are our treasures, our future, our immortality — the vital link in the chain of humanity.

Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of today. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child has its fairy godmother in its soul; it is to live in a nutshell and to count yourself the king of infinite space; it is
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a Heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour;
it is to know not as yet that you are under sentence of life, nor petition that it be commuted into death.

Whoever comes to this house shall never leave without being filled with joy. To Me, the Parent, all human beings in the world are My children.

Eternity is like a child playing at draughts; the kingdom belongs to a child.

our little ones — they are our future hope. Our children!

From childhood to youth is eternity, from youth to manhood, a season. Age comes in a night and is incredible.

For a parent, a child is a child for ever. Never ever expect ing anything in return, she was simply a mother who wanted her child to be happy, always, to shower him with love.

We depend on the guarantee in our children's faces that we will not die. Children whose defining quality annihilates that fantasy of immortality are a particular insult; we must love them for themselves, and not for the best of ourselves in them, and that is a great deal harder to do. Loving our own children is an exercise for the imagination.

A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.