Quotes About Adolescence

I went through my adolescence having this revelatory experience - I can have any music I want, and I can get it immediately. For me and for a lot of people I know, there's this musical eclecticism that happened.

I definitely wasn't cool in high school. I really wasn't. I did belong to many of the clubs and was in leadership on yearbook and did the musical theater route, so I had friends in all areas. But I certainly did not know what to wear, did not know how to do my hair, all those things.

I have this theory about us. When we started writing our own songs, we were 17 years old. When you're 17, you write songs for other 17-year-olds. We stopped growing musically when we were 17. We still write songs for 17-year-olds.

I had a mustache when I was 13.

I was the class clown when I was a little young mustache.

I've had a prolonged adolescence, like a lot of my generation.

I was kind of a MySpace kid in high school, and people thought since I had so many MySpace friends that they didn't need to be nice to me in real life. They were like, 'You get enough attention online,' or they were jealous or something. I don't really know.

I was 15 when I first read 'The Feminine Mystique,' locked in my bedroom, probably wearing black, groping for any ideas I could find on how not to become my mother.

When I was 15, I was naive, looked like a grey mouse and felt second choice.

The first person to blow up my fashion consciousness was a 14-year-old girl named Sandrine. She was the most beautiful human I had ever seen.

I was named Hardwell by my dad when I was 12 and the name just stuck.

Secondary school was a lot harder. That was probably my hardest time. Some of the girls were really nasty. I had to move schools because of the bullying there.

We have to actually choose a name, Kane murmured above her head. We can't keep calling him 'baby.' When he's fifteen he might resent it.

It is a terrible thing to feel sorry for one's mother or indeed father. And it's an additionally awful thing to feel this and to know the impotence of the adolescent to do anything at all about it. Worse still, perhaps, is the selfish consolation that it isn't really one's job to rear one's parents.

Boys enjoy the misery of their companions, at least village boys in that day did, and in later life I have found that all adults are not free from the peculiarity.

In my book The Need to Have Enemies and Allies,37 I describe how it is impossible to truly change a person's ethnic identity after adolescence. When adult newcomers face new ethnic sentiments and investments in a new location, they will have mild to severe difficulties in developing a synthesis of two ethnicities.

Eponine e Azelma não davam pela sua presença. Era para elas como um cachorro. As três meninas juntas não somavam 24 anos de idade e já representavam toda a sociedade humana; de um lado a inveja, do outro o desprezo.

In six months the little girl had become a young woman; that was all. Nothing is more common than this phenomenon. There is a moment when girls bloom in a twinkling, and become roses all at once. Yesterday we left them children, today we find them disturbing. She had not only grown; she had become idealized. As three April days are enough for certain trees to put on a covering of flowers, six months had been enough for her to put on a mantle of beauty. Her April had come.

Isabelle had traded kisses with boys as if they were pennies to be left on park benches and lost in chair cushions—meaningless.

Her teenage daughter was sprouting like a tree, blooming every day into another variation of who she would someday become. Moods twisted her up and left her looking sometimes like a girl who'd just washed up onshore, unable to quite remember who she was and who she wanted to be. Kate

Girls," she whispered under her breath, wondering why it was that adolescent girls simply had to be mean to their mothers. Clearly it was normal behavior; she'd spent enough time with her friends and peers to know that. So normal it was probably part of evolution. Maybe the species needed girls who thought they were grown up at thirteen for some bizarre, hidden reason.

Somewhere in your class is the girl who will be friends with you all through high school. I promise. You just have to find her.

Not monsters; just boys, really.

You have a teenage daughter, Miles. She'll be smart one minute and stupid the next. Deal with it.