Quotes About Youth

Joe checked the gas and oil in their car while Frank loaded the baggage into the trunk. "All set." "Okay." Joe took the wheel and zigzagged through the Bayport streets until they came to the highway which led directly west. Early-morning traffic was light, consisting mainly of large trucks heading east toward the radar construction. The road, level at first, rose in a long curve toward the top of a hill, three miles out of town.

Biff rode in the Hardys' car with Frank and Joe while Chet chauffeured the girls in his jalopy. Five miles later they stopped at the Hamburger Haven, piled out of the cars, and occupied counter stools. After the girls had ordered, Chet boomed, "Three burgers for me, a double order of French fries, and a thick chocolate malted.

As Frank opened the door, four laughing young people burst into the Hardy home. In the lead was Iola Morton, Chet's sister, with Callie Shaw and Helen

The Hardys started down the street. They had gone only three blocks when their chubby friend Chet Morton jumped out of a yellow sedan which stopped briefly and then went on. He was munching an apple. "Hi, fellows," he greeted them. "I was on my way to your house. Phil gave me a ride. Going anywhere special?" "Well, sort of," Joe replied. "Why?" "Put it off," Chet insisted importantly. "I've got something to show you.

Frank glanced at his wristwatch. "Sufferin' snakes! We're almost late for class!" With a roar of exhaust, the convertible headed for Bayport High School. Not until they returned home that afternoon were the Hardys able to resume work on the code message.

When he reached the selected cruising altitude, Jerry set the plane on course. Hour after hour passed as it bore through the sky. Lulled by the drone of the engines, the boys caught up on some sleep. When they awoke, the first light of dawn was breaking in the east. Gradually the light grew brighter, revealing a fascinating mosaic of deep blue and jade green on the surface of the ocean below.

The boys hurried to the Hardys' convertible. A red glow of sunset suffused

By now the speedy craft was far out on the broad bay. The water had grown choppy and was turning from green to steely gray. In the distance the boys watched a cluster of white sails skimming before the breeze.

The Hardys and Chet hastened out into the chilly air. The lighted windows of the house became eerie rectangles of hazy yellow in the drifting mist as the trio skirted the dense bushes edging the lawn.

After stopping in the house for lemonade with the girls and to pick up Chet's wallet, the three boys piled into the convertible and drove off. A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the novelty shop on King Street. A bell tinkled as they walked in and Mr. Bivven, the squat, baldheaded proprietor, came out of the back room to greet them. He beamed at the trio across the counter. "Something you'd like, boys?

Callie rode with Frank in the convertible, while Joe piled in with Iola and Chet. They drove to a spot just north of Barmet Bay, called Gremlin Beach, which had become popular for surf-riding because of its high swells. "What a day for surf-birds!" Joe cried as the foursome jumped out onto the clean white stretch of sand. An onshore breeze was blowing, and the waves from some distant storm were piling into high-crested breakers. Two boats came into view, kicking up plumes of spray.

The group managed to squeeze into a single taxi. Soon they were whisked through a beautiful residential area of pink and white villas, then out onto a wide boulevard lined by palms, in clear view of the sea. "Pretty nice place," Chet remarked. "Let's have some fun while we're here and not get mixed up with a bunch of crooks." The others smiled. When they reached the hotel, the boys went at once to Mr. Hardy's room for a conference.

The boys drove to the Morton farm. Frank and Joe went inside with their chum and Mrs. Morton served milk and apple pie.

Chet Morton, who was a school chum of the Hardy boys, lived on a farm about a mile out of Bayport. The pride of Chet's life was a bright yellow jalopy which he had named Queen. He worked on it daily to "soup up" the engine. Frank and Joe retraced their trip for a few miles, then turned onto a country road which led to the main highway on which the Morton farm was situated.

Oh yes?" Chet retorted. "Hop over to the Bayport Soda Shop with me, and I'll show you what I'm investing in—a year's supply of the biggest banana splits you ever saw!

Joe explained that every once in a while he and Frank went down to Rocco's fruit store to act as clerks while the owner went home to supper.

The boys enjoyed a hearty meal of roast chicken, potatoes, and asparagus. While eating, they related the day's events. Then Frank announced that they were going out to do a little more sleuthing after dinner. "I declare," Aunt Gertrude said, sniffing. "I don't know what's happening to this generation. Never get proper sleep. They'll all be nervous wrecks before they're thirty.

Acting as if there were no problems on their minds, Frank and Joe strolled along whistling. Once they joined a group of people who were watching a sidewalk merchant. The man was demonstrating little jumping animals. Frank and Joe laughed as they bought a monkey and a kangaroo. "Iola and Callie will get a kick out of these," Joe predicted.

Come on to the Hot Rocket," Chet said, "and I'll stand treat for hamburgers and malts." Joe looked at his brother in surprise and burst out laughing. "Wow! We don't get an offer like that every day! It's a deal, pal!

Frank and Joe sprinted toward a crowd of people milling in the town square. They were gathered around an old Civil War mortar that stood on a pedestal. White smoke drifted from the muzzle. "Somebody fired the gun!" Joe cried out. "It must have been an accident," Frank said.

Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.

I'm on such a dangerous road, Milena. You're standing firmly near a tree, young, beautiful, your eyes subduing with their radiance the suffering world.

My grandfather used to say: Life is astoundingly short. To me, looking back over it, life seems so foreshortened that I scarcely understand, for instance, how a young man can decide to ride over to the next village without being afraid that -not to mention accidents- even the span of a normal happy life may fall far short of the time needed for such a journey.

Life is astonishingly short. As I look back over it, life seems so foreshortened to me that I can hardly understand, for instance, how a young man can decide to ride over to the next village without being afraid that, quite apart from accidents, even the span of a normal life that passes happily may be totally insufficient for such a ride.