Quotes About Adolescence

Dave Matthews Band was dope; Bryan Adams was jake. Getting to third base was dope; being grounded was jake. After that, he'd stayed upstairs when Tim came over, and was meanly glad when he and Trip began to drift apart. Now here was Tim calling Moody's name—his

she was trying on new skins, like all teenagers do,

That first morning, James slid into his seat and the girl next to him asked, "What's wrong with your eyes?" It wasn't until he heard the horror in the teacher's voice—"Shirley Byron!"—that he realized he was supposed to be embarrassed; the next time it happened, he had learned his lesson and turned red right away.

Izzy had the heart of a radical, but she had the experience of a fourteen-year-old living in the suburban Midwest.

Pearl glanced over her shoulder, in the universal reaction of all teenagers confronted by their parents in a public place

Izzy had the heart of a radical, but she had the experience of a fourteen-year-old living in the suburban Midwest. Which was to say: she cast about for ideas for exacting revenge—egged windows, flaming bags of dog shit—and chose the best thing in her limited repertoire. Three afternoons later, Pearl

Chad Davidson

I've seen it before, what mothers and daughters can do to one another during those terrible adolescent years. Grief must be at the bottom of it, for what is sadder for a parent than seeing her daughter shedding girlhood drop by precious drop? And what is more terrifying for a child than to doubt her mother, to begin to see her as a human with faults instead of as a goddess?

Here are the Top Ten things that your parents say to you: -Is that all you're going to do all day, sit in front of the computer? -When I was your age I had two jobs. -Why don't you wear some clothes that fir for a change? -Turn it down. I can hear it all the way over here. -You're not eating that for dinner. -Did you do your homework? -Stop mumbling and speak up. -Now what did you do? -Because I said so. -No.

I only know two sorts of boys. Mealy boys, and beef-faced boys.

I have often thought that few people know what secrecy there is in the young under terror

Conscience is a dreadful thing when it accuses man or boy; but when, in the case of a boy, that secret burden co-operates with another secret burden down the leg of his trousers, it is (as I can testify) a great punishment.

According to Educator's Newsletter, eighty percent of us have high self-esteem in first grade; by twelfth grade only five percent of us still feel good about ourselves. As the Luno newsletter comments, those statistics raise "the possibility that school is the biggest mental health problem we've ever known.

Twelve!!! Twelve years old!!? When you lost your virginity, you were twelve???' 'Yeah.' 'Twelve??' Rimmer stared into the fire. 'Well, you can't have been a full member of the golf club, then.

If I'd said that to my sensible, smutty, twelve-year-old self, he would have laughed until he hemorrhaged

Parents will claim a Christian identity which their kids will slough off by young adulthood.

They weren't quite in their teens, yet their faces had the early trappings of apathy.

She was only fifteen! What is the matter with these kids today? Can't they wait to have sex until they get their driver's license and can go somewhere?

No one, certainly no teenager, was normal or felt they were. Everyone wore a kind of mask that kept people from really seeing what - or who - was inside

When I was 14, I felt very rundown I had a home to go to, but I felt like I was 60 or something, older than I feel now. And I don't know if it's something that happens at 14, or whether it was adolescence or whether I was gay, or closeted gay, or whatever it was, I felt that.

I also wish I knew why millions of bright American children turn overnight into teenage nerds. The substitution of the automobile for the natural body, which our culture has effected in the most evil perversion of humanity since chivalry, is one cause; narcosis by drugs and Dionysian music is another.

When you're living through it, though, especially when you are twelve and you think the whole world is changing until you realize it isn't the world, it's you, no piece seems little. It's all so big you think it can kill you. But it doesn't. Which is why the story goes on.

I answered few questions in class. I watched my master's face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.

I see us milling around our lockers in Tri-County High, laughing and joking and making plans for the weekend, whispering about girls and sex and other undiscovered territories, slapping five, talking cool, dreaming our pretty little high school dreams.