Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.

By computing the position of various stars on 11 April 1960, an astrologer would be able to deduce that I'm selfish, arrogant and thoughtless. But this seems like an unnecessarily complicated palaver. I mean why bother with reference books and slide rules and telescopes when you can simply ask what sort of car I drive. See the car. Know the man.

I was born in 1949, into a war, and started school in 1956, the year of the Suez War. I finished high school in 1967 during the Six-Day War, married in 1973, the year of the Yom Kippur War. My first child was born in the middle of the 1970s, when war was raging in Lebanon; my second child was born in 1982, when Israel annihilated Beirut with bombs, and my father died during the Gulf War. My whole life is mapped out by wars. When I talk to my Israeli peers, they say, 'It's the same with me.' And I say, 'But is that a good thing? Or should we do something about it?' I'm trying to fight against all this, so that my children's lives and the lives of my grandchildren are not always described by wars.'

In my case, that number is 45. And given that I was born on December 13, 1945 — my conception, gestation, and birth all occurred within that year — that number has been with me, literally, for all my life, to date.<p>The number 45 keeps on popping up as I go about the business of getting elected — you guessed it — as the forty-fifth president of the United States of America.

I was born in 1770, on April the 3rd, on the Easter Monday. The rebellion in the Peloponnese broke out in 1769. I was born under a tree on a mountain called Ramovouni, situated in old Messenia

The year you were born in - 1917 - was one of the memorable years of history.... In the very month you were born, Lenin started the great Revolution which has changed the face of Russia and Siberia.

I was born on the 2nd of December 1940 (or so we all agreed) until I was twenty years old when we realized that that was the birth date of my late brother Norman who died before I was born and in whose memory was named Nora.

Honey, you're the one who stopped sleeping with me, OK?
It'll be a year come April 20th.
I remember the date exactly, because it was Hitler's birthday

The day of your birth leads you to death as well as to life.

I was born in Munich, Germany, in 1933. I spent the first six years of my life comfortably, as an adored child in a closely-knit middle-class family. Even when my family was rounded up for deportation to Poland it didn’t occur to me that anything could happen to us. All I remember is scrambling up and down three tiers of narrow beds attached to the walls of a very large room, and then taking a long train trip. After some days of back and forth on the train, we were returned to Munich. All the grown-ups were happy and relieved, but I began to realize that there were bad things that my parents couldn’t completely control, something to do with being Jewish. I learned that everything would be fine if we could only get to “America”.

I only know I was born on March 5th because someone told me. I don’t remember myself. So it’s fact based on secondhand information and trust.

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young.

My birth was my first misfortune.

I have a baptismal certificate signed by the mission. The date of my birth was in that baptismal certificate.