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

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

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.

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

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

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

I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?

Bright youth passes as quickly as thought.

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

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

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.

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

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.