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.

Youth, youth, springtime of beauty.

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

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

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

No one’s serious at seventeen.

Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.

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

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.

The thing that impresses me most about America is the way parents obey their children.

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.

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

No wise man ever wished to be younger.