Quotes About Youth

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul, my Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Goodness, what crazy purchases were prompted by the poignant predilection Humbert had in those days for check weaves, bright cottons, frills, puffed-out short sleeves, soft pleats, snug-fitting bodices and generously full skirts! Oh Lolita, you are my girl, as Vee was Poe's and Bea Dante's, and what little girl would not like to whirl in a circular skirt and scanties

Esos contactos incompletos producían en nuestros cuerpos jóvenes, sanos e inexpertos, un estado de exasperación tal, que ni aun el agua fría y azul, bajo la cual nos aferrábamos, podía aliviar.

Înc? de pe când eram copil… eram preg?tit pentru a intra în nefiinÈ›a tihnit? a momâilor mature, în care colegii mei s-au È™i transformat f?r? efort È™i durere…

iar contactele acestea incomplete au împins trupurile noastre s?n?toase, tinere È™i lipsite de experien?? într-o asemenea exasperare, încât nu se mai putea liniÈ™ti nici m?car apa albastr? È™i r?coroas? sub care noi doi ne È›ineam înc? ag??aÈ›i unul de altul.

Now I wish to introduce the following idea. Between the age limits of nine and fourteen there occur maidens who, to certain bewitched travelers, twice or many times older than they, reveal their true nature which is not human, but nymphic (that is, demoniac); and these chosen creatures I propose to designate as "nymphets

Y mientras mis piernas de autómata seguían andando, me impresionó el hecho de que sencillamente no sabía una palabra sobre el espíritu de mi niña querida, y que sin duda, más allá de los terribles clichés juveniles, había en ella un jardín y un crepúsculo y el portal de un palacio: regiones vagarosas y adorables, completamente prohibidas para mí, ajenas a mis sucios andrajos y a mis convulsiones.

I adore her so horribly. No: 'horribly' is the wrong word. The elation with which the vision of new delights filled me was not horrible but pathetic. I qualify it as pathetic. Pathetic – because despite the insatiable fire of my venereal appetite, I intended, with the most fervent force and foresight, to protect the purity of that twelve-year-old child. And

La gente que se afeita se rejuvenece un día todas las mañanas.

I heard my sweetheart running up the stairs. My heart expanded with such force that it almost blotted me out. I hitched up the pants of my pajamas, flung the door open: and simultaneously Lolita arrived, in her Sunday frock, stamping, panting, and then she was in my arms, her innocent mouth melting under the ferocious pressure of dark male jaws, my palpitating darling!

O que me põe louco é a natureza dupla desta ninfeta - de todas as ninfetas, quiçá; esta mistura, na minha Lolita, de uma infantilidade terna e sonhadora com uma espécie de horripilante ordinarice, que provém das enfadonhas modelos fotográficas da publicidade e das revistas, com os seus narizinhos travessos...

Lo espiritual y lo físico se habían fundido en nosotros con perfección tal que no puede sino resultar incomprensible para los jovenzuelos materialistas, rudos y de mentes uniformes, típicos de nuestro tiempo.

She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. ... But in my arms she was always Lolita.

It may well be that the very attraction immaturity has for me lies not so much in the limpidity of pure young forbidden fairy child beauty as in the security of a situation where infinite perfections fill the gap between the little given and the great promised—the great rosegray never-to-be-had.

It] may well be that the very attraction immaturity has for me lies not so much in the limpidity of pure young forbidden fairy child beauty as in the security of a situation where infinite perfections fill the gap between the little given and the great promised.

The spiritual and the physical had been blended in us with a perfection that must remain incomprehensible to the matter-of-fact, crude, standard-brained youngsters of today.

But the chief problem in any community cursed with crime is not Punishment of the criminals, but the preventing of the young from being trained to crime.

Youth and skill will win out every time over age and treachery. True or false? False. Even the best and brightest are regularly eaten alive by politics, intrigue, and plotting.

The most effective young Facebook users, however -- the ones who will probably be winners if Facebook turns out to be a model of the future they will inhabit as adults -- are the ones who create successful online fictions about themselves.

Youth as glimpsed by its elders is a story that comes from afar, showing itself as either lovely to look at or a torment to endure.

The days of my youth I remember as nearly always in need of explanation, and not as much fun as advertised in the promotions for board games and breakfast cereal.

Recollections of early childhood bear comparison to fairy tales, and ... youth remains an unknown country to whose bourn no traveler returns except as the agent of a foreign power.

All boys are pathetic.