Quotes About Youth

Nature has no human inhabitant who appreciates her. The birds with their plumage and their notes are in harmony with the flowers, but what youth or maiden conspires with the wild luxuriant beauty of Nature? She flourishes most alone, far from the towns where they reside. Talk of heaven! ye disgrace earth.

I have lived some thirty years on this planet, and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable or even earnest advice from my seniors.

Raste an vielen Bächen, an vielen Herdfeuern, und mache dir keine Sorgen. Gedenke deines Schöpfers in deiner Jugend. Erhebe dich, ehe der Morgen dämmert, sei unbekümmert und ziehe auf Abenteuer! Möge der Mittag dich auch an anderen Gewässern finden oder die Nacht dich überraschen, du bist überall zu Hause.

The youth may build or plant or sail, only let him not be hindered from doing that which he tells me he would like to do. It is by a mathematical point only that we are wise, as the sailor or the fugitive slave keeps the polestar in his eye; but that is sufficient guidance for all our life. We may not arrive at our port within a calculable period, but we would preserve the true course.

I mean that they should not play life or study it merely, while the community supports them at this expensive game, but earnestly live it from beginning to end. How could youths better learn to live than by at once trying the experiment of living?

Though winter is represented in the almanac as an old man, facing the wind and sleet, and drawing his cloak about him, we rather think of him as a merry woodchopper, and warm-blooded youth, as blithe as summer.

The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever!

Every child begins the world again

Though the youth at last grows indifferent, the laws of the universe are not indifferent, but are forever on the side of the most sensitive.

There is a period in the history of the individual, as of the race, when the hunters are the best men, as the Algonquins called them. We cannot but pity the boy who has never fired a gun; he is no more humane, while his education has been sadly neglected.

An incident which happened about this time will set the characters of these two lads more fairly before the discerning reader than is in the power of the longest dissertation.

his indescribable little air of knowing nothing in the world but love.

Her face was not young, but it was simple; it was not fresh, but it was mild. She had large eyes which were not bright, and a great deal of hair which was not 'dressed,' and long fine hands which were--possibly--not clean.

You young men have too many jokes. When there are no jokes you've nothing left.

I had the view of a castle of romance inhabited by a rosy spirit, such a place as would somehow, for diversion of the young idea, take all colour out of story-books and fairy-tales. Was n't it just a story-book over which I had fallen a-doze and a-dream?

Is that another sort of joke? asked the old man. You've no excuse for being bored anywhere. When I was your age I had never heard of such a thing.

I had not gone to bed; I sat reading by a couple of candles. There was a roomful of old books at Bly—last-century fiction, some of it, which, to the extent of a distinctly deprecated renown, but never to so much as that of a stray specimen, had reached the sequestered home and appealed to the unavowed curiosity of my youth.

The years have touched her only to enrich her; the flower of her youth had not faded; it only hung more quietly on its stem.

My dear young lady,' said her distinguished friend, 'isn't to live exactly what I'm trying to persuade you to take the trouble to do?

Life is all a green old English garden and time an endless summer afternoon.

She envied the security of valuable 'pieces' which change by no hair's breadth, only grow in value, while their owners lose inch by inch youth, happiness, beauty[.]

Satisfied to die in the flower of her youth? Well, at peace with you. Oh, 'peace'! he murmured with his eyes on the fire. The peace of having loved. He raised his eyes to her. Is that peace? Of having been loved, she went on. That is. Of having, she wound up, realised her passion. She wanted nothing more. She had had all she wanted.

She was too young, too impatient to live, too unacquainted with pain.

Living as he now lived was like reading a good book in a poor translation – a meagre entertainment for a young man who felt that he might have been an excellent linguist. He