Childhood has no forebodings—but then, it is soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow.

Grown up, and that is a terribly hard thing to do. It is much easier to skip it and go from one childhood to another.

Bright youth passes as quickly as thought.

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

No time to marry, no time to settle down, I’m a young woman, and ain’t done runnin’ round.

Blessed are the young, for they shall inherit the national debt.

No wise man ever wished to be younger.

The young always have the same problem—how to rebel and conform at the same time. They have now solved this by defying their elders and copying one another.

A dissolute and intemperate youth hands down the body to old age in a worn-out state.

Even members of the nobility, let alone persons of no consequence, would do well not to have children. 

Youth is the time to go flashing from one end of the world to the other both in mind and body, to try the manners of different nations, to hear the chimes at midnight.

The thing that impresses me most about America is the way parents obey their children.

No one’s serious at seventeen.