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

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.

No one’s serious at seventeen.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

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

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