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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

Ah, there are no children nowadays.