Quotes About Youth

Greed is good. Sex is easy. Youth is forever.

The Smiths are singing and someone says Turn that gay angst music off.

He was simply someone who floated through our lives and didn't seem to care how flatly he perceived everyone or that he'd shared our secret failures with the world, showcasing the youthful indifference, the gleaming nihilism, glamorizing the horror of it all.

You're a beautiful boy, Clay, but that's about it.

Baby, when you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live. You know you did, you know you did, you know you did.

Before I leave, the Eurotrash girl tells me she likes my gazelleskin wallet. I tell her I would like to tit-fuck her and then maybe cut her arms off, but the music, George Michael singing "Faith," is too loud and she can't hear me. Back upstairs I find Patricia where I left her

I'm thinking about the beautiful boy on the treadmill wearing the I STILL HAVE A DREAM T-shirt and realize that it might not have been ironic.

Keep everything young and soft, keep everything on the surface, even with the knowledge that the surface fades and can't be held together forever - take advantage before the expiration date appears in the nearing distance.

Haven't we outgrown all this tired irony? Weren't we supposed to give up acting twenty-two forever?

I can't disagree. I laugh weakly, walking him to the door. As he leaves I'm wondering and not wondering what happens in the world of Tim Price, which is really the world of most of us: big ideas, guy stuff, boy meets the world, boy gets it.

I guess the consolation is that she's not going to be beautiful forever, he says. But I'd like to be with her before that happens.

Why not?" she asks petulantly. "Give me one good reason we shouldn't." "Because trying to fuck you is like trying to French-kiss a very … small and … lively gerbil?" I tell her. "I don't know." "Yes?" she says. "And?" "With braces?" I finish, shrugging.

when you were young and your heart was an open book you used to say live and let live.

When Blair bites her lower lip she's eighteen again.

So many people died last year: the accidental overdose, the car wreck in East Hampton, the surprise illness. People just disappeared. I fall asleep to the music coming from the Abbey, a song from the past, "Hungry Like the Wolf," rising faintly above the leaping chatter of the club, transporting me for one long moment into someone both young and old. Sadness: it's everywhere.

There are some guys sitting at tables who all look at this one gorgeous girl, longingly, hoping for at least one dance or a blow job in Daddy's car and there are all these girls, looking indifferent or bored, smoking clove cigarettes, all of them or at least most of them staring at one blond-haired boy standing in the back with sunglasses on. Julian

She's doped up watching MTV and I want to watch the goddamn MacNeil/Lehrer report.

Romeo Void blared out of the sunroof.

Qué es lo peor que te ha pasado, Jimmy?, lee fuera de cuadro alguien que hace el papel de una chica llamada Claire. El amor incondicional, responde el chico, y el personaje de Jimmy se vuelve con fingida vergüenza, pero el chico lee mal la frase, poniendo el énfasis donde no toca, sonriendo cuando debería haberse puesto totalmente serio, convirtiéndolo en el remate de un chiste cuando nunca lo ha sido.

Listen, the dick also rises," Van Patten says. "Faulkner.

She's simply another girl who has gotten by on her looks—her currency in this world—and it will not be fun to watch her grow old.

And I just stood there in the fading afternoon light, realizing at seventeen that I was already staring into my past — that the past had a meaning that would always define you. I remember this being one of my first moments nearing adulthood, when I realized how powerful memory was — or at least it was the first time it hurt the most. And there was nothing I could do about the pain of the past — it just settled over me.

Even though I had always sexualized Thom Wright everyone else now realized he was built, the jawline seemed more pronounced, the hair was now shorter—somewhat ubiquitous among the guys at Buckley (mostly because of haircut regulations) but Thom's was now something stylish, a moment, a cue to manliness

No one cared what we watched or didn't, how we felt or what we wanted, and we hadn't yet become enthralled by the cult of victimization. It was, by comparison to what's now acceptable when children are coddled into helplessness, an age of innocence.