Quotes About Youth

You used to be optimistic. You used to think that whatever we did would turn out well. Even after we came back from the north, you used to think that. Now you're cautious, you're anxious…you're pessimistic." She knew he was right, but it wasn't right that he should speak to her so accusingly, as if it was something to blame her for. "I used to be young," was all she could find to say.

I love him so much, Will! she managed to whisper shakily. And he looked old! He looked hungry and old and sad... Is it all coming on to us now, Will? We can't rely on anyone else now, can we... It's just us. But we en't old enough yet. We're only young... We're too young... If poor Mr Scoresby's dead and Iorek's old... It's all coming on to us, what's got to be done.

That's the duty of the old, said the Liberian, to be anxious on behalf of the young. And the duty of the young is to scorn the anxiety of the old.

Hay personas tiernas y sentimentales, sobre todo en entre los más jóvenes, que se quedan con una muy mala impresión cuando les digo que yo escribo para ganar dinero. Les gusta tanto la idea del artista muriéndose de hambre en una buharda, que la pobreza se les antoja la situación indispensable para producir arte. Pero la preocupación [...] no es un buen estado de ánimo para escribir.

Hay personas tiernas y sentimentales, sobre todo entre los más jóvenes, que se quedan con una muy mala impresión cuando les digo que yo escribo para ganar dinero. Les gusta tanto la idea del artista muriéndose de hambre en una buharda, que la pobreza se les antoja la situación indispensable para producir arte. Pero la preocupación [...] no es un buen estado de ánimo para escribir.

When you're young you do think that things last forever. Unfortunately, they don't.

Malcolm verbeet de pijn in zijn linkerarm en rommelde onder in de rugzak op zoek naar de alethiometer in de zwartfluwelen stof. Terwijl hij hem tevoorschijn haalde, viel het fluwelen lapje open en het gouden mechaniek glansde in het zwakke licht. 'Wat is dát?' vroeg Asriel. 'Een aardigheidje voor Lyra.' En Malcolm stopte het vlug tussen haar dekentjes.

we take for lovers or husbands. You are so young, Lyra, too young to understand this, but I shall tell you anyway and you'll understand it later: men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, clever; and they die almost at once. They die so soon that our hearts are continually racked with pain.

Schools must take children to the theatre. This activity must be subsidised. Children should be able to join a youth theatre near where they live, and learn how to take part in every aspect of putting on a play. Places like that should be subsidised too. These things are not luxuries: they're essential to our wellbeing.

jeunesse dorée

You are so young, Lyra, too young to understand this, but I shall tell you anyway and you'll understand it later: men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, clever; and they die almost at once. They die so soon that our hearts are continually racked with pain.

When you're young, you do think that things last forever

In my childhood I led the life of a sage, when I grew up I started climbing trees

Good Christ, a Jewish man with parents alive is a fifteen-year-old boy, and will remain a fifteen-year-old boy till they die!

How much time could you spend staring out the ocean, even if it was the ocean you'd loved since you were a boy?

It was impossible to believe that Alan was lying in that pale, plain pine box merely from having caught a summertime disease. That box from which you cannot force your way out. That box in which a twelve-year-old was twelve years old forever. The rest of us live and grow older by the day, but he remains twelve. Millions of years go by, and he is still twelve.

There it was: the tactless severity of vital male youth, not a single doubt about his coherence, blind with self-confidence and the virtue of knowing what matters most. The ruthless sense of necessity. The annihilating impulse in the face of an obstacle. Those grand grandstand days when you shrink from nothing and you're only right. Everything is a target; you're on the attack; and you, and you alone, are right.

There is his religion of art, my young successor: rejecting life! Not living is what he makes his beautiful fiction out of! And you will now be the person he is not living with!

Am I mistaken to think that even back then, in the vivid present, the fullness of life stirred our emotions to an extraordinary extent? Has anywhere since so engrossed you in its ocean of details? The detail, the immensity of the detail, the force of the detail, the weight of the detailthe rich endlessness of detail surrounding you in your young life like the six feet of dirt that'll be packed on your grave when you're dead

All of this was why, from Quahsay, I had mailed my four published stories to Lonoff. Felix Abravanel was clearly not in the market for a twenty-three-year-old son.

Simple was never that simple. Still, the self-questioning did take some time to reach him. And if there's anything worse than self-questioning coming too early in life, it's self-questioning coming too late.

That box from which you cannot force your way out. That box in which a twelve-year-old was twelve years old forever.

Ingeniously as their parents and teachers may attempt to protect the young from being drawn, to their detriment, into the moronic amusement park that is now universal, the preponderance of the power is not with them.

What a paradox. Well, you can only be young once, but you can be immature forever.