Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.

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

No one’s serious at seventeen.

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.

The boy is, of all wild beasts, the most difficult to manage. 

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

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.

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

Youth, youth, springtime of beauty.

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

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

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

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