Quotes About Youth

In my youth jeans had to be tight enough to cause arteriosclerosis. This kids drawers would accommodate a party of three.

I suffered the usual post–collective experience letdown. Sure, I was relieved. Field school was concluded without any disasters of note, and now I could focus on Emma's skeleton. But the students' departure also left me feeling dismally empty. The kids could be exasperating, no question. The unending hubbub. The clowning. The inattention. But my students were also energizing, bursting with enthusiasm, and lousy with youth.

God help anyone who messes with the Virals!

was sixteen, had found himself a very nice girlfriend in Maria, the daughter of the Sullivans up at the farm.

Hey!" I said, indignation filling me. "I'm immortal! Doesn't that mean I won't get saggy boobs and gray hair? Because if it doesn't mean that, I want a refund—

When I was younger, I used to say, One day I'll be famous.

But there is knowing something and then there is feeling it. For adults, these are two different things. For children, they are one.

I feel it, that expansiveness specific to childhood, the breath filling you all the way up to the puff of your cheeks, the feeling that each breath is good.

Wes slid two more cigarettes out of the pack, offering one to me. "I don't smoke." "Why not? It gives you superpowers, you know." "What? Like cancer?" I said

Val was young enough that alcohol was still recreation, not yet anesthesia,

I was a hop-around. I hung out with the rockabilly crew, the guys who were trying to be rappers, the funny kids.

I heard the military bands playing with false and terrible cheer in the streets as the recruits went off to war [WW1]. I had beat the bed with my fists then, and cried tears of rage that young men must march off to this artful ad calculated accompaniment to places where wagon roads would be laid across their bones.

I look back over my shoulder and feel the presence of an intense young girl and then a volatile and disturbed young woman, both with high dreams and restless, romantic aspirations

Here's what Mike knew about kids: They did stupid stuff. Pretty much all of them.

If you ever start thinking that any of them are developmentally more mature than a high school boy, just remember they named their dogs after beer.

Get your filthy hands off the puzzle, you little brats!

I saw a new world coming rapidly. More scientific, efficient, yes. More cures for the old sicknesses. Very good. But a harsh, cruel, world. And I saw a little girl, her eyes tightly closed, holding to her breast the old kind world, one that she knew in her heart could not remain, and she was holding it and pleading, never to let her go.

Overbearing parents was one thing; waking up to a drunk uncle mistaking you for the toilet was another.

I am twelve, John is nine, and we have not yet learned of death. Pain and horror, however, are kindred. They visit us nightly, and take away little pieces of our soul. We live in nightmare and escape during daylight.

She hangs around with this emo kid who fancies himself a poet or some shit.

When I was in high school, my friends and I would drive out into the country to abandoned houses and structures... haha... to ghost hunt. We would scare each other so bad! We would sometimes camp out by the abandoned buildings just to scare ourselves! Such good times. The adrenaline of real fear is so cool!

Watching her, he saw again how she teetered between adolescence and adulthood, with a raw sensuality that had to deposit her in a kind of no-man's land--too much a woman for boys her own age, too young for fully adult men.

To be poor in New York was humiliating, a little; but to be young—to be young was divine.

I am now 28 years old on the outside and nearly 12 years old on the inside. I always want to stay 12 years old on the inside.