Quotes About Youth

What an unreliable thing is time--when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl's hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair. .... But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.

You're only young once, but you can be immature forever." —GERMAINE GREER

How, I wondered, could a fifteen-year-old boy act like this without getting his ass kicked every time he opened his mouth?

Marty grinned as he backed toward the door. "Green eggs and mamba," he said, then ran.

And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again—to slow time down and get taken in, and fall in love once more.

Creativity is not merely the innocent spontaneity of our youth and childhood it must also be married to the passion of the adult human being, which is a passion to live beyond one's death.

A young man came for psychotherapy because, though he was intellectually very competent and seemed superficially to be very successful, his spontaneity was almost completely blocked.

When I was eighteen, Germany was eighteen," said Goethe,

Jessica Simpson is the youth ambassador for Operation Smile, and an episode of The Apprentice featured a team managing a charity concert she put on. Donald Trump came on stage and pledged a donation.

He gave up. He'd been feeling like giving up for a long, long time. I guess it's maturity, they say it always gets you in the end. I don't seem to have any more principles left, so it's got to be maturity... A broken man, I guess that's what you become, the moment you are no longer a kid.

You are the only man I ever respected,' she said. 'But you haven't aged well. You have stayed young. Men who stay young don't age well.

Cosa caratterizza la grazia?» "Io pensai alla piccola polacca, al suo collo, alle sue braccia, al volo della sua chioma, e risposi senza esitare: «Il movimento». "Presi diciannove. Devo il mio diploma all'amore.

Chère Méditerranée ! Que ta sagesse latine, si douce à la vie, me fut donc clémente et amicale, et avec quelle indulgence ton vieux regard amusé s'est posé sur mon front d'adolescent ! Je reviens toujours à ton bord, avec les barques qui ramènent le couchant dans leurs filets. J'ai été heureux sur ces galets.

Buvau jaunas, jaunesnis nei maniau. Ir vis d?lto mano naivumas buvo jau senas ir be iliuzij?. Ties? pasakius, jis amžinas: ?žvelgiu j? kiekvienoje naujoje kartoje, pradedant 1947 met? Sen Žermen de Pr? "žiurk?mis" ir baigiant Kalifornijos beat generation , pas kuriuos kartais apsilankau, nes man smagu kitose vietose ir kituose veiduose atpažinti grimasas, kurias darydavau dvidešimtmetis.

nors beveik vis? m?s? šiandien jau neb?ra gyv?, mes likome linksmi ir dažnai susitinkame gyvi jaun? mus supan?i? žmoni? žvilgsniuose.

But perhaps there are points about which one never grows old. And it is no more agreeable at sixty-three to feel that a young woman no longer considers you a man than it is at sixteen to feel that she still considers you a child.

all intolerable local situations have become world situations, with the result that the whole world has become a local situation, here, under your nose, staring at you, and when your sensitivity is still alive and not dulled, that is, when you are young, if all you can do is stare back at it helplessly, you run amok, you blow up, you smash whatever is at hand, you express yourself, you seek a release.

O young men that shed your blood with so generous a joy for the starving earth! O heroism of the world! What a harvest for destruction to reap under this splendid summer sun! Young men of all nations, brought into conflict by a common ideal, making enemies of those who should be brothers; all of you, marching to your death, are dear to me.

Let us be bold and proclaim the truth to the elders of these young men, to their moral guides, to their religious and secular leaders, to the Churches, the great thinkers, the leaders of socialism; these living riches, these treasures of heroism you held in your hands; for what are you squandering them? What ideal have you held up to the devotion of these youths so eager to sacrifice themselves? Their mutual slaughter!

When she was a child, my love carried a road-map in her hand the way other girls carried handkerchiefs. She always knew the way. Her feet were little wings. And her beautiful head was a compass.

I know a girl from whose body sunbeams rose to the clouds as if they'd fallen from the sun. Her laugh was like a bangle of bells. "Your hair is wet," I told her one day, "Did you take a bath?" "It is dew!" she laughed, "I've been lying in the grass. All morning long, I lay here waiting for the dawn.

So the nymphs they spoke, we kissed and laid. By noontime's hour our love was made. Like braided chains of crocus stems, we lay entwined, I laid with them. Our breath, one glassy, tideless sea, our bodies draping wearily, we slept, I slept so lucidly, with hopes to stay this memory.

The youthful body untouched decays the fastest, for no living hands record its splendor; and here youth and time are wasted.

As for girls, they must risk everything for freedom, and give everything for passion... loving everything that their hearts and their bodies love. The only thing higher for a girl and more sacred for a young woman than her freedom and her passion should be her desire to make her life into poetry, surrendering everything she has to create a life as beautiful as the dreams that dance in her imagination.