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

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

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

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

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

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

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

Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.

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.

Bright youth passes as quickly as thought.

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

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