Quotes About Youth

The place of chess in the society is closely related to the attitude of young people towards our game.

Tan Suang U," he said with a slow smile, "many a boy has strayed in the season of his youth and returned home to make his parents proud. I do not think that your Weng Kim is a bad boy.

We serve the devil in our youth, God in our old age--thinking if we journey towards hell while our limbs are sound, we can turn when they fail us, and get to heaven on crutches.

Youth is the season of receptivity, and should be devoted to acquirement; and manhood of power--that demands an earnest application. Old age is for revision.

There will always be romance in the world, so long as there are young hearts in it.

The gayest young men make the gravest old men.

Few marry their first loves; fewer ought to. The love of the very young is like the love of children for sweetmeats: they usually outgrow it.

Young men speak about the future because they have no past, and old men speak of the past because they have no future.

Wilderness gave us knowledge. Wilderness made us human. We came from here. Perhaps that is why so many of us feel a strong bond to this land called Serengeti; it is the land of our youth.

True love is not rare at the age of a teen, but recognizing it as true love is.

As we age we begin to grasp at youthful bliss like a life raft in a sea of harsh reality.

We stopped at a door that read GUIDANCE. I always found that term wonderfully vague. The dictionary definition of the word is "advice or information aimed at resolving a problem." In short, an attempt to help. But to us students, the word—this office—is far more frightening. It conjures up our college prospects, growing older, getting a real job—our future. Guidance seemed more like a term for cutting us loose. Spoon

Junior year of high school. Ask Mom and Dad what they did yesterday, they won't remember. Ask them about anything from his youth, and it's like they studied replays at night. He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Got me.

Do we really want to protect our children by giving guns to two underpaid cop wannabes and then mixing them in with a bunch of wiseass teens? Seemed a recipe for disaster. Wilde

In high school he had dated almost exclusively bisexual girls—he'd mention sex, the girls would say "bye.

She handed him an old class photograph, the color not so much fading as greening from age. Fifteen kids flanked by two teachers, one a far younger Peggy Joyce. The years had not been unkind to her, but they'd passed anyway.

She rose. Lindsey was pretty in a way that only the young are, with that enthusiasm and smile that belong exclusively to the innocent or the cult recruiter.

If life were a movie, this was the part where you'd start the music montage. Some sappy song would be playing while they flashed to Ashley and me sharing lunch, talking, laughing, looking coy, holding hands—and ending with that first chaste kiss. That

Hands in plain view approaching a high school. What a world.

Fuzz Pellet Josh sat alone. His head was tilted down, his hair hanging in front of his face like a curtain. His expression—and Grace guessed that he only had this one—was sullen. He bit into the taco as if it insulted his favorite grunge group. The earphones were jammed into place.

The boys ran and played with such wonderful abandonment. Adults could never play like that.

The girl cupped her hands over her eyes and blinked. She was pretty enough, with blonde highlights that you can only find in youth or a bottle. "Hi." Loren

Aaron looked strung-out, wearing a denim jacket over a grungy white T-shirt—the latest in heroin chic minus the chic.

Max emerged in the second exodus. When Grace saw her son—one sneaker lace untied, his Yu-Gi-Oh! backpack looking four sizes too big, his New York Rangers knit hat tilted to the side like a tourist's beret—the warmth rushed over anew.