Quotes About Youth

Genius in the popular sense has become common. (...) 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.

Young hearts have their unfathomable depths.

Engang kom han med skjorten åpen og han var tykt lodden på brystet. Det er som en eng å lægge sig i! tænkte jeg, for jeg var så ung. Jeg kysset ham nogen ganger, det er på det jeg vet at jeg aldrig har oplevet noget lignende.

In his younger days Grindhusen had been as stubborn and awkward as they come; now he was mild and stupid.

Light dresses, blue eyes, the tinkling of glasses, the sea, the white sails. We sang snatches of song. And our cheeks became rosy.

But Fia was very young and pitifully thin, by no means underfed, but undeveloped, short on muscle, short on work. What was she to do with herself, this talented girl? Her parents could afford to keep her at home or to keep her abroad, whichever she preferred, and whether she was here or there she was nice, she was charming, and she never went upstairs two steps at a time, no, never.

Wenn er groß war, wollte er Streichholzmacher werden. Das war so schön gefährlich, an seinen Fingern könnte Schwefel hängenbleiben, so daß niemand ihm die Hand zu geben wagte. Er würde bei seinen Kameraden großen Respekt genießen wegen seines unheimlichen Handwerks.

Mind you, they were not all that old, as people go. Suppose he was nineteen, that would make her a mere seventeen or so. Or if we were to tell the truth and say that he was only sixteen, that would make her still less—what age would that be? And there they stood.

Wergeland] slapp å bli en olding som satt og gjorde seg motbydelig for sine omgivelser ved sin elde. En gave var det til ham fra gudene, en nåde var det mot ham av gudene. Og heller ikke gled han nedover til den slappelse i sin produksjon som kanskje ville føre til en St. Olav eller en annen fin anerkjennelse, dertil ble han iallfall ikke gammel nok; nei han døde ung. ("Wergeland", tale på Henrik Wergelands hundreårsdag 17. juni 1908)

Jeg traf ham en morgen før jagttid, han var fem og tyve år og kom fra fjærne reiser, han spaserte ved min side i haven og da han berørte mig med sin arm begyndte jeg å elske ham.

en av os bondestudenter som er blit skadet indvortes ved å bli overflyttet til fremmed jord og atmosfære, han er en liten rumler fra landsbygden som gjærne vil agere frighetsmand og staskar hvortil han ikke er født. Manden mangler hjærtets dannelse, hans blod er falsk i ham. Nærmere uttrykt er han en begavet skøiergut som aldri blir voksen. Det er min lille mening.

Da giovane è facile credere che ciò che desideri sia ciò che ti meriti, è facile convincersi che se davvero vuoi qualcosa, è tuo sacrosanto diritto ottenerla.

How old are you?" "Physiologically, I'm twenty-five. Chronologically, I'm…not.

He's like six hundred years younger than you are. I refuse to be the moral compass of our cell! Most weekends I have an intoxispell bong attached to my mouth like a respirator. I love scatological humor, and I list 'pranks involving nuclear waste' and 'making demons eat things' as my hobbies.

Lothaire, I've met dirt younger than we are." -Nix

I like em young, dumb, and hung. Reign the Radiant

Well I am young. Just as he felt a flicker of ease, she murmured in a sexy voice, But, baby, I've been busy.

She'd always pitied the plight of genies until once when she'd freed one from a young beserker. Instead of thanks, the chit had laid into her, screaming, To each her own, lightening whore!

The female asked him, "Have you ever been bait? Well, besides jailbait. Rowr.

Crow, are you awake?" "Why do kids ask that when they know you're not?" She cracked open her bleary eyes. "No. Really.

I glimpsed Death's face for the first time. Surprise rocked me. Death was the most beautiful boy I had ever imagined. Looking to be no more than twenty years old, he was tall and broad-shouldered with a breathtaking face. I imagined some might describe his features as noble. His eyes glittered like…stars.

Hally : – […] See, a smart woman tends to act on your typical eighteen-year-old male like instant kryptonite. But, not to worry – mother tells me something mystical happens at graduation and suddenly male people who never pulled a grade above a C in their lives automatically become smarter than anything that wears a skirt. Maybe after that happens, we can date who we want.

She's easy to lead around, a shiny present here, a pretty compliment there, and you have true love and a popped cherry sacrificed to the god of deception and hormones. Young girls are so ridiculous--so predictably easy.

She kept her youth to a marvelous degree. Perhaps this was because she always seemed to preserve that attitude of delighted surprise towards life which most of us leave behind in childhood, an attitude which not only made Rosemary herself seem young but flung a pleasing illusion of youth over the consciousness of everyone who talked to her.