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

Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.

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.

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

Bright youth passes as quickly as thought.

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

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.

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.

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

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

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

Youth, youth, springtime of beauty.

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