Quotes About Youth

Japichinu era picciotto religioso, come sosteneva il nonno Balduccio, tant'è vero che aveva persino un Patre spirituale. Solo che tanto il picciotto quanto il parrino scangiavano superstizione per religione.

her first goal was 19. then she became 19, and she didnt die. it surprised her. nothing had ever surprised her like that.

kids marked by the special thinness that one has only once, the transparent thinness of early maturity, when, without knowing it, you are immortal. And completely permeable. When you can walk indifferently down the street with a lover because you have become that lover. Two small people without dislike of suspicion.

Laketon Elementary School was in the middle of a medium-size town in the middle of New Jersey. There was a reason Dave was in the middle of his fourth hour of not talking, but this isn't the time to tell about that. This is the time to tell what he figured out in the middle of his social studies class.

Instead of answering the young man lifted up his robe, and showed the Sultan that, from the waist downwards, he was a block of black marble.

take and thoroughly assimilate them. I have the hope that to some, especially young believers, it will be a help to come and for a month day after

Let Thy wonderful revelation of a Father's tenderness free all young Christians from every thought of secret prayer as a duty or a burden, and lead them to regard it as the highest privilege of their life, a joy and a blessing.

Where was he? Somewhere in there he lost the first phase of youth, like the first phase of a rocket; it had fallen, depleted, behind him. And here was the second. And last. He swore he would not give it to anyone; he would enjoy it. He would enjoy it alone. But: how to live alone and yet not be alone?

Less knows so well the pleasures of youth—danger, excitement, losing oneself in a dark club with a pill, a shot, a stranger's mouth—and, with Robert and his friends, the pleasures of age—comfort and ease, beauty and taste, old friends and old stories and wine, whiskey, sunsets over the water. His entire life, he has alternated between the two.

Have you met someone?" "Me? I think maybe I'll go it on my own. Maybe I'm better that way. Maybe I was always better that way and it was just that when I was young, I was so scared, and now I'm not scared.

Here was a thing that would grow old; here was a thing that would turn beautiful and lose that beauty, that would inherit the grace but also the bad ear and flawed figure of her mother, that would smile too much and squint too often and spend the last decades of her life creaming away the wrinkles made in youth until she finally gave up and wore a collar of pears to hide a wattle; here was the ordinary sadness of the world.

Strange to be almost fifty, no? I feel like I just understood how to be young.

Bougainvillea bloomed on their porch like a discarded prom dress.

an author too old to be fresh and too young to be rediscovered

All he wanted was to be young together and in love. Too much to ask? "Nobody gets that," she would say. "Nobody. Your problem is you're convinced you have a type." He would say of course he had a type, and she would say: "Give that up. Find someone who treats you decently.

Maybe he never did. Less knows so well the pleasures of youth—danger, excitement, losing oneself in a dark club with a pill, a shot, a stranger's mouth—and, with Robert and his friends, the pleasures of age—comfort and ease, beauty and taste, old friends and old stories and wine, whiskey, sunsets over

Young people are inept at love; it is like being given a flying machine, and you leap inside, ready to set off as you've always dreamed, yet you don't have the first notion of how to make it start, much less how to make it move.

The beauty of his youth somehow taken from its winter storage and given back to him in middle age.

Like measles, love was the kind of thing you had to catch in youth, dispel, so that it would not leap upon you in old age and kill you.

Arthur Less is the first homosexual ever to grow old. That is, at least, how he feels at times like these. Here, in this tub, he should be twenty-five or thirty, a beautiful young man naked in a bathtub. Enjoying the pleasures of life. How dreadful if someone came upon naked Less today: pink to his middle, gray to his scalp, like those old double erasers for pencil and ink.

We have no heart at seventeen. We think we do; we think we have been cursed with a holy, bloated thing that twitches at the name we adore, but it is not a heart because though it will forfeit anything in the world-the mind, the body, the future, even the last lonely hour it has-it will not sacrifice itself.

Strange to be almost 50, no? I feel like I just understood how to be young.

When I was young, all I wanted to read were pretentious little books. Camus and Tournier and Calvino. If it had a plot, I hated it.

Strange to be almost 50, no? I feel like I just understood how to be young." "Yes. It's like the last day in a foreign country. You finally figure out where to get coffee and drinks and a good steak and then you have to leave. And you won't ever be back.