Quotes About Youth

Your Royal Grace, Forgive my boldness. If I might inquire: How old are you? —Kimber

I told him that I would not marry him, because we were too young, and I didn't want to fall in love with the idea of love. I wanted actual love, not a looking-glass reflection of it. Not stolen kisses, or sotted promises. I wanted the truth of love, the pure molten core of it, because anything short of that was just a cheat.

She had been, in short, the inevitable result of everything she had been raised to be, frothy and naïve, a girl with barely a notion of her own universe, its rights and its monstrous wrongs.

When we're young, we're taught to behave as our parents do—to cherish what they cherish and believe what they believe. And for a while, that's as it should be. But as adults, sometimes we have our own desires, our own hopes, that are at odds with how our parents view the world.

Why do people not listen when you say no? Why do they think you are too stupid or too young to understand? Why do they think you are too shy to reply? Why do they keep badgering you until you will say yes?

I was sitting in the backseat with my brother, Luke, a seven-year-old complexity. Sometimes he acted as if he were two, and sometimes twelve. He was full of questions and energy and opinions except when you wanted him to have any of those things.

Words. I'm surrounding by thousands of words. Maybe millions...Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs...I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old.

He looked upon this verdant, blossoming spring, a spring Joanna would never see, he looked upon a field of brilliant blue flowers- the bluebells Joanna had so loved- and at that moment he'd willingly have bartered all his tomorrows for but one yesterday.

I'd not want to answer for the lives of other men; not at seventeen, by God's Grace.

Geoffrey looked startled to see both his great-uncles bearing down upon him with such haste; he hadn't realized men their age could move so fast.

He believed that his superior intellect mattered more than his physical defects and saw no reason why he must defer to these fortunate young men with handsome faces and healthy bodies and empty heads.

Yesterday I heard some of the castle servants talking about a funeral for one of the stable lads. He went skating last week on the pond in the village, but the ice was not thick enough and he drowned. I like to skate on the ice,too, Papa, have my own pair of bone skates. I could drown crossing the Channel as Uncle Robert fears... or I could drown back in Angers, if I was unlucky like that stable lad. Geoffrey's mouth twitched. God help me, he said, I've sired a lawyer!

How fragile life was, how fleeting their days on earth, and how fickle was Death, claiming the young as often as the old, the healthy as often as the ailing, cruelly stealing away a baby's first breath, a mother's fading heartbeat.

Who is old enough to ask, is old enough to know.

Youth is a circumstance that time corrects, and error teaches us to err again along a different vector.

Earthquake report: Call the paramedics. A girl in fifth grade is about to explode.

And then, as we grew into young women, we realised it was not love, but marriage that was the destiny waiting for us.

Like most Hindus, I think I have. I am, as I told you, a believer, despite a brief period of schoolboy atheism — of the kind that comes with the discovery of rationality and goes with an acknowledgement of its limitations.

It's a shame you have to go down for someone else. You don't seem like such a bad kid.

The air of innocence remained, still begging corruption.

He broke into a run, faster and faster, until the years fell away, and he hurled himself towards Peter. And as he had never run before, as though he would outdistance time, Peter was running towards his dog. John Longridge turned away, then, and left them, an indistinguishable tangle of boy and dog, in a world of their own making.

They played the things Duff had learned while crouching under Bantam Street windows, the old songs that had been great before some of the boys were born, things never set down on paper but kept alive in places and in memories such as these.

Its not living the gospel thats hard. Its life thats hard...How often do we make the mistake of talking to our youth about how hard it is...Shouldn't we instead be focusing on the doctrine of joy...? p 106

Teenagers read millions of books every year. They read for entertainment and for education. They read because of school assignments and pop culture fads. And there are millions of teens who read because they are sad and lonely and enraged. They read because they live in an often-terrible world. They read because they believe despite the callow protestations of certain adults that books-especially the dark and dangerous ones-will save them.