Quotes About Youth

He had handed his daughter to Caroline Gill and that act had led him here, years later, to this girl in motion of her own, this girl who had decided yes, a brief moment of release in the back of a car, in the room of a silent house, this girl who had stood up later, adjusting her clothes, with now knowledge of how that moment was already shaping her life.

Paul, careening down the slide with his arms out flung, and Phoebe, present somehow through her absence.

I imagine that she flushes, seeing him there, for she is at that age when even the most commonplace boys take on a sense of mystery. And this boy is not ordinary. He is wild and he has strange and fanciful perceptions. [p. 153]

she had only made things worse. His angry eyes met hers in the mirror, and she remembered his soft plump infant hand pressed against her cheek, his laughter trilling through the rooms. Another boy altogether, that child. Where had he gone?

Sure, he had a wife and fifty-four kids, but he looked like a college freshman. A yummy college freshman majoring in Oh-my-god-I-gotta-get-me-some-of-that.

We were innocent once. How could it have gone so bad?

I said school starts tomorrow. I didn't say I was going to be there.

Together we made our way from the service entrances in back to the front, Jenks shedding clothes and handing them to me to stuff in my bag every few yards. It was terribly distracting, but I managed to avoid running into the Dumpsters and recycling bins.

I was with a six-foot-four, athletic, angsty young man dressed in casual linen pants and matching fawn-colored shirt. Under it was a skintight two-piece suit of silk and spandex that had set us back a couple hundred dollars, but after seeing him in it, my head bobbed and my card came out.

Teaching an adolescent pixy and teenage gargoyle how to make explosives might not be such a good idea. But hell, he'd learned when he was five.

How is it that young people most need our love when they least deserve it?

In capitalist society, where the future of the younger generations depends on their parents' purse, they cannot avoid falling victim to social inequality and social evils. Due to the aggression and intervention of the imperialists and the plunder of the exploiter class, many of the young generation throughout the world lose their lives or are maimed by war, social conflict, disease and hunger or they wander about the streets, committing crimes and degenerating.

This was perhaps the evolutionary usefulness of the elderly, Bao had concluded: to give the young some kind of psychic shield from reality, putting them under a description which allowed them to ignore the fact that age and death would come to them too, and could come early and out of sequence.

What use was utopia without joy, after all? What was the point of all their striving if it did not include the laughter of the young?

They were so ignorant! Young men and women, educated very carefully to be apolitical, to be technicians who thought they disliked politics, making them putty in the hands of their rulers, just like always.

The vaunted experience of age was perhaps only a matter of wounds and scarring — that young minds to old minds might be as young bodies to old bodies: stronger, more vital, less twisted by damage.

I was old the day I was born and I'll be young the day I die.

Every age had its losses, they said, even youth, which lost first childhood, then youth too. And all first things were vivid, including losses. "Just keep learning," the old woman said.

Entre todo lo bello que trae consigo ser joven, los sueños son lo más importante

Everybody had been in their twenties then; well, round about thirty. Now, from round about seventy, all those years of maturity or the prime of life or whatever you called it looked like an interval between two bouts of vomiting.

A boy of to-day is affected by every change of tone and gust of opinion, so that he lies even when he desires to speak the truth

Boys love hitting each other in the face. I guess it's the next best thing to a kiss.

No worse fate can befall a young man or woman than becoming prematurely entrenched in prudence and negation.

Rather than admire the mediocre great men over whom passersby nudge each other in awe, I venerate the young, unknown geniuses who die in their teens, their souls shattered - delicate, phosphorescent glowworms that one must see to know they really did exist.