Bright youth passes as quickly as thought.

I was born at a very early age. Before I had time to regret it, I was four and a half years old.

No wise man ever wished to be younger.

I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?

I’ve never understood why people consider youth a time of freedom and joy. It’s probably because they have forgotten their own.

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

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

A sick child is always the mother’s property; her own feelings generally make it so.

Rejoice, young man, while you are young, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth. Follow the inclination of your heart and the desire of your eyes, but know that for all these things God will bring you into judgment.

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

The young man must store up, the old man must use.

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.

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.