Quotes About Youth

Los libros en sí mismos casi nunca son aburridos, excepto las memorias de los presidentes de Estados Unidos (no, no, Nixon); o mejor dicho, las memorias de los estadounidenses en general. Es el síndrome «Vivo en el país más rico del mundo, pero compadeceos de mí porque de joven tenía los pies planos y una vagina maloliente, pero al final he triunfado». ¡Puaj! Libros

From the solemn gloom of the temple children run out to sit in the dust, God watches them play and forgets the priest.

Gray hairs are signs of wisdom if you hold your tongue, speak and they are but hairs, as in the young.

Age considers; youth ventures.

The young student sits with his head bent over his books, and his mind straying in youth's dreamland; where prose is prowling on the desk and poetry hiding in the heart.

A message came from my youth of vanished days, saying, 'I wait for you among the quivering of unborn May, where smiles ripen for tears and hours ache with songs unsung.' It says, 'Come to me across the worn-out track of age, through the gates of death. For dreams fade, hopes fail, the fathered fruits of the year decay, but I am the eternal truth, and you shall meet me again and again in your voyage of life from shore to shore.

The lad himself becomes painfully self-conscious. When he talks with elderly people he is either unduly forward, or else so unduly shy that he appears ashamed of his very existence.

When we were young, we understood all sweet things; and we could detect the sweets of a fairy story by an unerring science of our own. We never cared for such useless things as knowledge. We only cared for truth.

My life when young was like a flower—a flower that loosens a petal or two from her abundance and never feels the loss when the spring breeze comes to beg at her door. Now at the end of youth my life is like a fruit, having nothing to spare, and waiting to offer herself completely with her full burden of sweetness.

I am like the night to you, little flower. I can only give you peace and a wakeful silence hidden in the dark. When in the morning you open your eyes, I shall leave you to a world a-hum with bees, and songful with birds. My last gift to you will be a tear dropped into the depth of your youth; it will make your smile all the sweeter, and bemist your outlook on the pitiless mirth of day.

The product of this inner life is a living product. It will be needed when the youth returns home weary and dust-laden, when the soldier is wounded, when the wealth is squandered away and pride is humbled, when man's heart cries for truth in the immensity of facts and harmony in the contradiction of tendencies. Its value is not in its multiplication of materials, but in its spiritual fulfilment.

Yet it is at this very age when, in his heart of hearts, a young lad most craves for recognition and love; and he becomes the devoted slave of any one who shows him consideration. But none dare openly love him, for that would be regarded as undue indulgence and therefore bad for the boy. So, what with scolding and chiding, he becomes very much like a stray dog that has lost his master.

The infinite is with us in the beauty of our childhood, in the strength of our youth, in the wisdom of our age; in play, in earning, and in spending.

When we were young, we understood all sweet things; and we could detect the sweets of a fairy story by an unerring science of our own. We never cared for such useless things as knowledge. We only cared for truth. And our unsophisticated little hearts knew well where the Crystal Palace of Truth lay and how to reach it. But to-day we are expected to write pages of facts, while the truth is simply this: "There was a king.

Mahendra's condition was like that of a greedy boy who watches in desperation as his powerful mentor chews upon a sugarcane stick until almost all its juice is exhausted. He could not bear to watch his youthful bride's sweetness being relentlessly wrung out of her by the pressures of housework.

In this world of human affairs there is no worse nuisance than a boy at the age of fourteen. He is neither ornamental nor useful. It is impossible to shower affection on him as on a little boy; and he is always getting in the way. If he talks with a childish lisp he is called a baby, and if he answers in a grown-up way he is called impertinent. In fact any talk at all from him is resented.

If things did not move on and vanish, we should see no beauty anywhere. If youth had only the heat of movement, it would get parched and withered. But there is ever the hidden tear, which keeps it fresh. The cry of the world is not only "I have," but also "I give." In the first dawning light of creation, "I have" was wedded to "I give." If this bond of union were to snap, then everything would go to ruin.

When we were young, we understood all sweet things; and we could detect the sweets of a fairy story by an unerring science of our own. We never cared for such useless things as knowledge. We only cared for truth. And

But my mother and father were married when my mom was 20 and my dad was 24.

I don't think young men or women should feel pressured into marriage. You shouldn't marry anyone, in my opinion, who you have to try hard for.

Everybody's 12 years old in an apple orchard.

I do support a sex-positive attitude for young people. Use condoms, that's important. I love the idea that promiscuity can be healthy but it's got some dodgy crevasses. Ooh, that's a bad reference! But it's got some dangerous cavities there. You know what I'm saying.

Boys. I'd turn gay if they weren't so sexy.

Perv." He pointed to himself. "Male and eighteen. What's your point?