Quotes About Growing up

I had never had a childhood that was anything but a miserable effort at trying to be an adult," Picasso said.

Roger reflected that it was a pity children had to grow up; by this time next year Stephen would be a schoolboy and the childish innocence would have vanished . . . but one could not help it of course. One could only do one's best to see that the child grew into a boy and the boy into a man smoothly, and with the least possible suffering . . . and that there were as few "nasty things" as possible in his cupboard of memory to roll out unexpectedly and make him uncomfortable.

Growing up, it was uncool to admit that your family had any money. And then, instantly, money was cool. In Reagan's parlance, it was about freedom of the individual, which was freedom to be greedy... individual versus society. There was a weird seduction in that, which I still feel.

Montreal is a very cosmopolitan, sophisticated, erudite, educated, glorious city today. But it wasn't quite that way when I was growing up there. There was a lot of anti-Semitism. And I had to deal with that in an area of the city that had very few Jews.

Growing up, I was from kind of Nowhere, Maine. And, so, now having thousands of people reaching out to me via social media and thousands of people paying attention to what I say, that's really weird.

I think, growing up, the female friendships that I saw on television were portrayed as catty and vicious.

I think the best thing about my job is that I have my life documented, which not many people get to have. They have a photo here and there and maybe some video footage from a birthday. My kids will be able to see me growing up.

For me, growing up coding and computers and video games wasn't something that was cool, but it was something that I was always passionate about. I never let the fact that that wasn't something that was cool take me away from it.

I love video games. I had a Sega Genesis and a Nintendo 64 growing up, and I've had every 'NBA Live' that has ever come out.

When I was growing up, it was a bad time to be in the military. It was the time of Vietnam, but I was never called up.

The problem is, I'm not sure I'm ready for anything. Everything you're supposed to do when you grow up. Move away from home, buy your own food and groceries, get married, have children. Sometimes even the easy part of all that seems impossible to me. And then I wonder what will happen ten, twenty years from now. Will I be a fifty-year-old adolescent, completely alone, still sponging off whatever family I've got left?

It's a little known fact, but parents are like superheroes. With just a few magic words they can make you feel ten feet tall and bulletproof, they can slay the dragons of doubt and worry, they can make your problems disappear. But of course they can only do this as long as you're a child. When you've become an adult, become the master of your own universe, they're not as powerful as they once were. Maybe that's why so many of us take our time growing up.

Nothing takes you from thirty years old to thirteen faster than your mother's voice rebounding up the stairs like a tennis ball after a forehand slice.

No, adulting is like"—she searched for the right words—"looking both ways before you cross the street and then getting hit by an airplane.

Her gaze ran over him. "You're… in just your undies." "Yes, that's what happens when you don't knock." She gave him a long once-over. "You grew up right nicely, Knox.

Children run everywhere for a reason--it's fun. Grown-ups can forget that sometimes.

the child trying not to appear as a child, of the strenuousness with which she tried to present the face of a convincing adult.

I suppose I am talking about just that: the ambiguity of belonging to a generation distrustful of political highs, the historical irrelevancy of growing up convinced that the heart of darkness lay not in some error of social organization but in man's own blood. If man was bound to err, then any social organization was bound to be in error.

they move them from a crib to a bed. It just seems that a bed should

I suddenly remember being very little and being embraced by my father. I would try to put my arms around my father's waist, hug him back. I could never reach the whole way around the equator of his body; he was that much larger than life. Then one day, I could do it. I held him, instead of him holding me, and all I wanted at that moment was to have it back the other way.

No one ever asks a kid for her opinion, but it seems to me that growing up means you stop hoping for the best, and start expecting the worst.

We pretend that we know our children, because it's easier than admitting the truth--from the minute that cord is cut, they are strangers. It's far easier to tell yourself your daughter is still a little girl than to see her in a bikini and realize she has the curves of a young woman; it's safer to say you're a good parent who has all the right conversations about drugs and sex than to acknowledge there are a thousand things she would never tell you.

Part of growing up was learning not to be quite that honest - learning when it was better to lie, rather than to hurt someone with the truth.

But here's the truth: no matter how much you might wish for it, princes don't come around every day, and happy endings don't grow on trees. Take it from me: the sooner you grow up, the less you'll be disappointed.