Childhood knows what it wants—to leave childhood behind.

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

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

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.

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

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

No wise man ever wished to be younger.

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. 

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

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.

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.