Youth, youth, springtime of beauty.

No one’s serious at seventeen.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.