Quotes About Youth

What hopes must it raise in a young creature who, in the midst of sordid elements, had pined for a life of elegance! A sunbeam had fallen into the prison. Augustine was suddenly in love.

Mon Dieu! why could they not always be little girls?

Pour un pauvre être écrasé par les différents despotismes qui, peu ou prou, pèsent sur toutes les jeunesses, le premier usage du libre arbitre, exercé même sur des riens, apportait à Tâme je ne sais quel épanouissement.

For my own part, I know of nothing more dreadful to see than an old man's thoughts on a child's forehead; even blasphemy from girlish lips is less monstrous.

Lucien vit le Palais dans toute sa beauté primitive. La colonnade fut svelte, jeune, fraîche. La demeure de saint Louis reparut telle qu'elle fut, il en admirait les proportions babyloniennes et les fantaisies orientales. Il accepta cette vue sublime comme un poétique adieu de la création civilisée.

He will show you how, during the springtime of life, illusions, innocent hopes, silver threads of gossamer, descend from heaven and return there without ever touching the earth.

Youth, moreover, when bent upon wrongdoing, does not dare to behold itself in the mirror of consciousness; mature age has seen itself; and therein lies the whole difference between these two phases of life.

On the one hand, he beheld a vision of social life in is most charming and refined forms, of quick-pulsed youth, of fair, impassioned faces invested with all the charm of poetry, framed in a marvelous setting of luxury or art; and, on the other hand, he saw a somber picture of degradation, in which passion was extinct and nothing was left but the cords and pulleys and bare mechanism.

Virginia Woolf, who was thirteen when her mother died, wrote, "Youth and death shed a halo through which it is difficult to see a real face.

No one stays young forever. And me? I lost my youth in the battlefield. If I have my way, I'll never leave this country again. Hell, I'll never leave the county. And if you think I'm the kind of man who'd leave Amelia, you never knew me at all.

Beauty doesn't keep, but rots like apples.

The Academy represented to the ladies of Lud all that they knew of romance. They remembered the jokes they had laughed at within its walls, the secrets they had exchanged walking up and down its pleached alleys, far more vividly than anything that had afterwards happened to them.

It's hard to believe that a caterpillar turns into a butterfly. They don't have anything at all in common. But I guess it's just as strange that a kid turns into an adult. I never want to be like a grown-up. They don't have much fun. Greta and I are planning to live next door to each other when we grow up, and raise horses and dogs and keep a few cats. I guess we'll have to marry men who like animals.

I hate the cliche of 'just have fun ' but what I've seen in today's sports, especially with parents, is they put so much pressure on the kids.

[Skipping] takes me back to less complicated times, without leaving the present!

I hate the common herd of men and keep them afar. Let there be sacred silence: I, the Muses' priest, sing for girls and boys songs not heard before.

I would not have borne this in my hot youth when Plancus was consul.

Jails and prisons are the complement of schools; so many less as you have of the latter, so many more must you have of the former.

Alexander at the head of the world never tasted the true pleasure that boys of his own age have enjoyed at the head of a school.

I avoid talking before the youth of the age as I would dancing before them: for if one's tongue don't move in the steps of the day, and thinks to please by its old graces, it is only an object of ridicule.

Su dicha fué completa, pues la halló sola, en batón, y los rizos sobre las mejillas. Como Nébel la retuvo contra la pared, ella, riendo y cortada, se recostó en el muro. Y el muchacho, a su frente, tocándola casi, sintió en sus manos inertes la alta felicidad de un amor inmaculado, que tan fácil le habría sido manchar.

Nébel fijó entonces atentamente los ojos en la hermosa criatura. Era una chica muy joven

Pensó en las palabras de Dostojewsky, que hasta ese momento no había comprendido: "Nada hay más bello y que fortalezca más en la vida, que un puro recuerdo". Nébel lo había guardado, ese recuerdo sin mancha, pureza inmaculada de sus dieciocho años, y que ahora estaba allí, enfangado hasta el cáliz sobre una cama de sirvienta…

Tenía, bajo el cabello muy oscuro, un rostro de suprema blancura, de ese blanco mate y raso que es patrimonio exclusivo de los cutis muy finos. Ojos azules, largos, perdiéndose hacia las sienes en el cerco de sus negras pestañas. Acaso un poco separados, lo que da, bajo una frente tersa, aire de mucha nobleza o de gran terquedad. Pero sus ojos, así, llenaban aquel semblante en flor con la luz de su belleza.