Best 4519 quotes in «growing up quotes» category

I believe in knowing who you are but without limiting yourself to your own expectation of who you are.

I believe ... that you must collect and pursue all your passions. Let your desires lead you to foreign territories. Your path might look scattered for now, like you have no direction or clear aim, but I believe that one day, all these ideas and spread-out skills will combine and create a creation of impact, a combined masterpiece of everything you found to love, and that will be your legacy.

I cared about Ben, but I was never in love with him. I was in love with what it said about me that I had a boyfriend like Ben, and that's just different.

I can’t spend time with people I don’t enjoy. I can’t do it anymore as theater. I make choices, and that’s a beautiful thing about growing up, learning to say no, in a nice way, just say no. I have this friend…we just went different ways in life. Once he came to me and said, “Francis, you don’t like me anymore.” and I said “No, it’s not that I don’t like you, we’ve chosen different styles of life. I still have beautiful souvenirs of all the things we did together and how close we were, but the truth is it’s not that you bore me, but I don’t enjoy talking to you anymore and I don’t want to fight with you but there’s nothing in common between your life and mine nowadays”. I would have never said that but he asked me. So what could I say? I said the truth. Growing up has a bit to do with that, to be able to tell the truth, to show who you are, even if it hurts.

Ich selbst hatte das verwirrende Gefühl, jeden Tag bestimmt hundertmal vom Kind zum jungen mann wieder zum Kind zurückkatapultiert zu werden.

I could feel his hand on my waist, his arms around me, feel the rise and fall of his chest next to mine as I held my breath, and wished the sun would drop out of the sky.

I could feel the ghosts of all the girls I'd been behind me in the alleyway, creeping in my wake. I could almost hear my own footsteps as an echo. For a moment it was so real that I spooked myself. I stopped and turned to look. There was only silence and darkness. I walked on.

I could turn up the volume on their songs and that loudness matched all my panic and fear, anger and emotions that seemed up until that point to be uncontrollable, even amorphous.

I could watch him do this until morning — never asking questions and never interrupting his work. I worship quietly — his intense focus and attention to detail and then, out of no where, I realize the inconvenient, inappropriate truth: ‘I love this man… and it has swallowed me.

Idealizing Daddy is grand when you're five; it's crippling when you're twenty-five or thirty-five. For if you still believe in Daddy's miracles, you may not believe that you can make your own dreams come true. Worse, you may not even be able to formulate them without his guidance,

I’d ask you to be careful tomorrow, if I thought you’d listen to me,’ I said to him. He looked sympathetic but annoyed. ‘Mum, I’m not a baby anymore.’ Then sensing that I was on the verge of crying, he hugged me gently to his chest. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged me this way. With my face pressed next to his heart I whispered softly, ‘You’ll always be my baby.’ The hug grew firmer and the teardrops began to fall freely.

I did not see Pirahã teenagers moping, sleeping in late, refusing to accept responsibility for their own actions, or trying out what they considered to be radically new approaches to life. They in fact are highly productive and conformist members of their community in the Pirahã sense of productivity (good fishermen, contributing generally to the security, food needs, and other aspects of the physical survival of the community). One gets no sense of teenage angst, depression, or insecurity among the Pirahã youth. They do not seem to be searching for answers. They have them. And new questions rarely arise.

I didn't begin life hating my grandmother. Like every child, I adored her. Until I formed a brain and got to know her.

I didn't grow up in a Norman Rockwell house... my house was more akin to Norman Lear.

...I didn't run away to come home the same. -Claudia

I do like the way people behave toward me and Theresa when we’re together-everyone’s voice changes to music, and we get all sorts of smiles.

I'd like to go back to five years old again. Just sometimes. To be turning over rocks and looking for pill bugs and holding earthworms, playing dolls, erecting forts, digging through dirt for marbles, burrowing in leaf piles, failing at igloo building, when my biggest concern was going to sleep with the lights off. I wish I was five again, before things got hard, before I was forced to grow up way too early and been stuck in this "adult" thing way too long. I wish I could sit in my Grandpa's lap and let him sing me crazy Irish songs and go over the names of the planets. "Gwampa, tell me about Outer Space." ... "Gwampa, sing the Swimming Song." I wish I could go back there, just for a little while, and pick raspberries by myself in the sun and find secret hideaways and not hurt, not worry, not carry the heavy things. If I could be five years old....just for a few minutes. Remember what it felt like to be free. That would be something.

I don’t ever want to hurt anyone, but I really wish there was something like a reset button on my life.

I don't know as much about children as I would like to. I am godmother to a wonderful three-year-old boy named dominic, the son of my friend Sophie. They live in Scotland, near Oban, and I don't get to see him often. I am always astonished, when I do, at his increasing personhood - no sooner had I gotten used to carrying about a warm lump of baby that he stopped being one started scurrying around on his own. I missed six months, and lo and behold, he learned how to talk! Now he talks to himself, which I find terribly endearing since I do, too.

I don't know much about the world, but I do know one thing for sure. If I'm pessimistic, then the adults in this world who are not pessimistic are a bunch of idiots.

I don't have to get married to grow up!

I don’t know what happened to me,” he said, shaking his head. “I honestly don’t.” Bennie glanced at him, a middle-aged man with chaotic silver hair and thoughtful eyes. “You grew up, Alex,” he said, “just like the rest of us.

I don't know why I didn't have this sixth sense or whatever it is all along, but part of me thinks maybe it means I'm growing up, evolving into a real superhero. Like maybe the world knew I couldn't handle it before, but now, now I'm finally becoming me an the world know sit -- or maybe I'm just learning to listen to myself.

I don't like being with grown-up people. I've known that a long time. I don't like it because I don't know how to get on with them.

I don't really enjoy it, Mom." "And you've always felt this way?" "I don't know. I guess I want a break.

I don't think I've changed at all,' said Emerald, knowing herself to be lying, but there was a mist between her and her childhood self, made up of grief and multiple small denials, and she did not care to try to look through it.

I don't think that I am happy, but then again, I don't know. Sometimes I get so caught up in the process of living-- of eating, dressing, taking the train to work, that I don't give it enough thought. Maybe happiness is being content. But is it really?

I don't want to grow up, but I know that one day I might have to. There is this inevitability of needing to take care of your family. There is this inevitability of needing to take care of yourself.

I don't want to grow up, but I know that one day I might have to.

If a fight looks like a lot of fun, you should be suspicious. 'If you ain't scared of standing up for what's right, you ain't standing up for much.

I don’t want Summer to be the girl who might have been. I don’t care if that makes things difficult. I don’t care if Rachel will kill me for it. I’m not going to miss this chance. I’m going to do whatever I have to do to be with her. ", Drew Donovan in Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

I feel a resurgence of my 6-year-old self… that little warrior, goddess of a girl reminding me of who I was when I was little, before the world got its hands on me.

I fantasize the night sky to be like a cosmic blue print of my life as I close my eyes and unbutton my heart…. just in case anyone up there is listening.

I feel like a paper cut just waiting to bleed.

I felt for the first time, maybe ever, how much harder it was to be the adults. And I wasn't sure I could do that when it was my turn.

If father and daughter can manage to cross the finish line of her emancipation together- she accepting Daddy's flaws, he viewing hers as opportunities for her to learn and grow- the ups and downs of their relationship and mutual growth can prepare her for the ambiguities of life. The example of the father weathering his own emotional seasons can help the daughter weather her own.

If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a man.

I felt the warm tug of the past and the melancholy of absence - all of it a little jarring, accustomed as I was to the hermetic and youthful world of college. It was something deeper than what I normally felt at school, the slow shift of generational gears.

If ever I was running, it was towards you.

If only you could have witnessed how much I have changed: sit alone in a disused theatre and feel what I have felt, see how the world has transformed me, like the metamorphosis of a caterpillar.

If I could have all of those things, I wouldn't mind if I touched her or not.

If I don't see the reason of someone being my friend, chances are, we are just floating and I need a ship to set sail.

If I had an .MP3 of your heartbeat… I might actually get some sleep.

I found myself suddenly jealous of the time when things were simple, when days centered on creek walks and tetherball, and your biggest worry was whether you'd have riding or sailing. There were no boys, there were no secrets or rumors, and there were no regrets. Not even fear of regret. There was just a best friend and endless hours to fill with Pixy Stix and laughing so hard you couldn't breathe.

I found a photo of Mom standing between Mick and Dad, who were both wearing basketball uniforms. Mom was perfectly groomed, of course, and looking very ladylike. I said I must have been adopted. Ma-ma-oo laughed and said that when Mom was a little girl, she was always doing things like tying two cookie sheets to her shoes and attempting to ski because she'd seen one of her movie star idols in a magazine, elegantly poised on the slopes of Switzerland. Mom flew down the hill, hit a bump and crashed into a bush. She broke her leg and earned the nickname "Crash.

If we held grudges for all the idiotic things we said and did as freshman and sophomores, the hallways would be silent.

If you look for endings you can always find one, but I truly felt as if I had used up the last of my youth, if youth is that finite stage of life when it all feels expeditionary, inexact.

If you are to be, you must begin by assuming responsibility.

If you happen to be white in a white country; pretty according to the dictates of fashion; rich in a country where money is adored, it’s almost impossible to grow up and to grow up honest inside. It is almost impossible. Most people don’t grow up. Most people age. They find parking spaces, honor their credit cards, get married, have children, and call that maturity. What that is, is aging. But to grow up, to take responsibility for the time you take up, and the space you occupy, to honor every living person for his or her humanity, that is to grow up.

If you didn't grow up like I did then you don't know, and if you don't know it's probably better you don't judge.