Ah, there are no children nowadays.

The distinction between children and adults, while probably useful for some purposes, is at bottom a specious one, I feel. There are only individual egos, crazy for love.

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

Bright youth passes as quickly as thought.

Most men employ the first years of their life in making the last miserable.

No wise man ever wished to be younger.

There comes a time in every rightly constructed boy’s life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure.

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

Youth, youth, springtime of beauty.

Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.

The young leading the young is like the blind leading the blind.

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.

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