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

No wise man ever wished to be younger.

Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.

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

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.

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

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

Youth, youth, springtime of beauty.

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

Even members of the nobility, let alone persons of no consequence, would do well not to have children. 

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

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.

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.