Quotes About Youth

These children will not be coming of age, this or any other summer. This August will not ask them to find hidden reserves of strength and courage as they confront the complexity of the adult world and come away sadder and wiser and bonded for life. This summer has other requirement for them.

After a few dates, though, and before the relationship had really progressed enough to merit the name, she dumped me. She informed me, matter-of-factly, that she was old enough to know the difference between intriguing and fucked up. "You should go for younger women," she advised me. "They can't always tell.

he had been lost somewhere in the wild borderlands of nineteen, half in love with his friends with a love passing the love of women, desperate for some mystical rite that would reverse time and put their disintegrating private world back together.

We had been so small, so recklessly sure that together we could defy all the dark uncomplicated threats of the adult world, rust straight through them like a game of Red Rover, laughing and away.

I looked out over the water, into the night that was coming in on the tide, and I felt nothing at all. The beach looked like something I had seen in an old film, once upon a time; that hotheaded boy felt like a character from some book I had read and given away in childhood. Only, somewhere far inside my spine and deep in the palms of my hands, something hummed; like a sound too low to hear, like a warning, like a cello string when a tuning fork strikes the perfect tone to call it awake.

she dumped me. She informed me, matter-of-factly, that she was old enough to know the difference between intriguing and fucked up. "You should go for younger women," she advised me. "They can't always tell.

I think it's just your basic teenage debris.

Every kid has a right to some rebellion. I'd been angelic all through school. It evens out.

The kid hasn't mastered the art of small talk. Every question comes out sounding like part of an interrogation.

A handful of ten-year-olds with underprivileged hair and no eyebrows were slouched on a wall, scoping out the cars and thinking wire hangers.

Plenty of people think the same thing. All of them are teenagers, mentally if not physically. Only teenagers think boring is bad. Adults, gown men and women who've been around the block a few times, know that boring is a gift straight from God.

She had held her whole life, everything she was, as lightly as a wildflower tucked in her hair, to be tossed away at any second as she took off burning streaks down the highway.

That kind of absolute faith is one of those things that, like virginity, can only be lost once

Michel, the tight-jawed president of the Black Student Caucus, who called her "little sister" and would have had potential if he'd remembered to sprinkle in some fun between bouts of righteous indignation.

If they had said my writing wasn't good enough, fair enough, that's an opinion. But to say it's too complex is to insult the intelligence of the so-called young.

Fuk "youth" ... how about a fountain of SMART ?

Uma das grandes vantagens da infância é que não temos um gosto refinado.

I knew guys got erections. I was perfectly prepared to deal with it. When the right guy and the right erection came along.

He wanted more than anything, to walk over the bridge. To just leave Oyster Point and go to college in the city, where maybe people were different. But he also said that he was afraid that if he set out to cross that bridge, he might not make it to the other end without giving in to the temptation to jump and just be done with it.

Good God. Johnny freakin' Ramos. Out in the hall. Of course, out in the hall. Hell, he'd spent half his life out in the hall,especially at Campbell Junior High,especially during seventh-grade social studies call. She'd gotten sent out in the hall with him once, her one and only time in the hall ever, the two of them put there to "work things out", and her poor little thirteen-year-old heart had barely survived the experience.

What were you doing when you were eight, thirteen, fifteen, and eighteen? The answer is, I suspect: not very much.

You do know, I hope, that no man under the age of forty can even approach fascinating.

Whoso neglects learning in his youth, loses the past and is dead for the future.

The eyes of a woman in the face of a ten-year-old girl.