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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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

Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.