Quotes About Youth

You're wearing that bow tie, after all. Isn't that rather an invitation to a young sir?

Ä°ki genç bal?k,beraberce suda yüzüyormuÅŸ. Kar??dan gelen yaÅŸl?ca bir bal??a rastlam??lar;yaÅŸl?ca bal?k onlara bir baÅŸ selam? vererek ÅŸöyle demiÅŸ:Günayd?n çocuklar.Su nas?l? Genç bal?klar yüzmeye devam etmiÅŸ ama bir süre sonra biri diÄŸerine dönüp sormuÅŸ:Su da neyin nesi?

I think I no longer believe in monsters as faces in the floor or feral infants or vampires or whatever. I think at seventeen now I believe the only real monsters might be the type of liar where there's simply no way to tell. The ones who give nothing away. But then how do you know they're monsters, then? That's the monstrosity right there, I'm starting to think. That they walk among us. Teach our children. Inscrutable. Brass-faced.

jailhouse tatts always look like they were done by sadistic children on rainy afternoons.

Gately's snapped to the fact that people of a certain age and level of like life-experience believe they're immortal: college students and alcoholics/addicts are the worst: they deep-down believe they're exempt from the laws of physics and statistics that ironly govern everybody else.

He dreams he's with a very sad kid and they're in a graveyard digging some dead guy's head up and it's really important

Let the call go forth, to pretty much any nation we might feel like calling, that the past has been torched by a new and millennial generation of Americans

Irony and hip ennui are extremely authoritarian.

I was looking at my sneakers and making my feet alternately pigeon-toed and then penguin-toed on the bedroom's blue carpet.

These kids should be out drinking beer and seeing films and having panty raids and losing virginities and writhing to suggestive music, not making up long, sad, convoluted stories.

But and so things are slow, and like you they have this irritating suspicion that any satisfaction is still way off, and it's frustrating; but like basically decent kids they suck it up, bite the foil, because what's going on is just plain real; and no matter what we want, the real world is pretty slow, at present, for kids our age.

Do you think it's a coincidence that college is when many Americans do their most serious fucking and falling-down drinking and generally ecstatic DIonysian-type reveling? It's not.

legs which not even orange Keds with purple-glitter-encrusted laces could make unserious. Shy

Children and adolescents play a nearly incomprehensible nuclear strategy game with tennis equipment against the real or holographic(?) backdrop of sabotaged ATHSCME 1900 atmospheric displacement towers exploding and toppling during the New New England Chemical Emergency of Y.W. CELLULOID (UNRELEASED)

In the eighth American-educational grade, Bruce Green fell dreadfully in love with a classmate who had the unlikely name of Mildred Bonk. The name was unlikely because if ever an eighth-grader looked like a Daphne Christianson or a Kimberly St.-Simone or something like that, it was Mildred Bonk.

Forget so-called peer-pressure. It's more like peer-hunger. No? We enter a spiritual puberty where we snap to the fact that the great transcendent horror is loneliness, excluded engagement of the self. Once we've hit this age, we will now give or take anything, wear any mask, to fit, be part-of, not be Alone, we young.

You just never quite occurred out there, kid.

Of course it's true that an unprecedented number of young Americans have big disposable incomes, fine tastes, nice things, competent accountants, access to exotic intoxicants, attractive sex partners, and are still deeply unhappy.

She was the kind of fatally pretty and nubile wraithlike figure who glides through the sweaty junior-high corridors of every nocturnal emitter's dreamscape

These guys are always 25–30 and look 45–60 and are a better ad for sobriety at any cost than any ad agency could come up with.

This is what I get for passing down priceless fruits of hard experience to somebody who still thinks it's exciting to shave.

Boo, I think I no longer believe in monsters as faces in the floor or feral infants or vampires or whatever. I think at seventeen now I believe the only real monsters might be the type of liar where there's simply no way to tell. The ones who give nothing away.' 'But then how do you know they're monsters, then?' 'That's the monstrosity right there, Boo. I'm starting to think.' 'Golly Ned.' 'That they walk among us. Teach our children. Inscrutable. Brass-faced.

In America, we think of rebellion as this very sexy thing that involves action and force and looks good.

Un tempo sembravano puttane. Adesso somigliavano a studentesse universitarie. Volevano tutte sembrare studentesse. Perché non ci andavano davvero, all'università, allora? Non avrebbero avuto niente di diverso dalle altre. Nessuno le avrebbe mai notate. Cristo, che maniera assurda di stare al mondo.