Quotes About Youth

I was there for these moments, but so young and preoccupied with my own thoughts that I hardly recognized them as moments.

The mind of a child is like a kiss on the forehead — open and disinterested

Your work, coming from a fluid source, can be traced to the naked song of your youth. You spoke then of holding hands with God. Remember, through everything, you have always held that hand, grip it hard, Robert, and don't let go. (letter to Robert Mapplethorpe, 1970)

Sometimes I just wanted to raise my hands and stop. But stop what? Maybe just growing up.

William Burroughs was simultaneously old and young. Part sheriff, part gumshoe. All writer. He had a medicine chest he kept locked, but if you were in pain he would open it. He did not like to see his loved ones suffer. If you were infirm he would feed you. He'd appear at your door with a fish wrapped in newsprint and fry it up. He was inaccessible to a girl but I loved him anyway.

Sadece kendim olmak istiyor ve Peter Pan klan?ndan geliyordum. Biz asla büyümezdik.

Avevo trovato conforto in Arthur Rimbaud, in cui mi ero imbattuta a sedici anni, su una bancarella di libri di fronte alla stazione degli autobus di Philadelphia; il suo sguardo borioso aveva incrociato il mio dalla copertina di Illuminazioni . Possedeva un'intelligenza insolente capace di infiammarmi, e l'avevo accolto come un compatriota, un parente, un amore segreto perfino. Non avendo i novantanove centesimi per comprare il libro me lo ero messo in tasca.

Then I read Little Women, and of course, like a lot of really young girls, I was very taken with Jo - Jo being the writer and the misfit.

Oh take their picture," said the woman to her bemused husband, "I think they're artists." "Oh, go on," he shrugged. "They're just kids.

The new artists coming through were very materialistic and Hollywood, not so engaged in communication.

that he was a good boy trying to be bad.

Sometimes I wanted to raise my hands and stop. But stop what? Maybe just growing up.

We were the rebels without a cause and he was our Sal Mineo.

I felt a fleeting pang in my heart for I knew that innocent phase of our life had passed.

I finally placed where the images in my morning dream might have come from - the Battle of Shiloh in the Civil War. Thousands of young soldiers lay dead on the battleground in a peach orchard in full bloom. It was said that the blossoms fell upon them, covering them like a thin layer of fragrant snow. I wondered why I had dreamed that, but then again, why do we dream about anything?

I'm certain, as we filed down the great staircase, that I appeared the same as ever, a moping twelve-year-old, all arms and legs. But secretly I knew I had been transformed, moved by the revelation that human beings create art, that to be an artist was to see what others could not.

It occurs to me that the young look beautiful as they sleep and the old, such as myself, look dead.

I longed to enter the fraternity of the artist: the hunger, their manner of dress, their process and prayers. I'd brag that I was going to be an artist's mistress one day. Nothing seemed more romantic to my young mind. I imagined myself as Frida to Diego, both muse and maker.

It's our decade, he said.

Always keep learning. It keeps you young.

I think my real depressions started when I was about 16 and doing The Patty Duke Show. I would go to bed at about 10 o'clock on a Friday night and not get up again until 6:30 Monday morning.

Eighteen is a terrible age, and while I walked around with the conviction that I was somehow more grown-up than my classmates, the truth was that I had merely found a different way of being young.

He is twenty-eight years old, and to the best of his knowledge he has no ambitions. No burning ambitions, in any case, no clear idea of what building a plausible future might entail for him.

The best thing about being fifteen is that you don't have to be fifteen for more than a year.