Best 660 quotes in «coming of age quotes» category

I stopped telling you all of my secrets when you became my biggest one.

I tell you, mister, if there’s anything good about being a hot-tempered bitch, it’s knowing right well what buttons to push in others seeing as they’re the same ones what get your own back up.

It feels like I’m trapped in quicksand. The more I struggle, the more I sink. So I stop struggling. I stop trying to free myself; because the more I struggle the scarier it becomes. Then—and only then did panic yield long enough for a numbness to spread and stick to me like a second skin.

It felt like we were claiming the world for ourselves and our lives as our own.

I think I finally understand what it is that you experienced in our last moments together. The fear to resign yourself to a final belief greater than yourself. It is difficult to decide what cause to believe in because of the fear that it is a lesser unworthy cause, it is not the meaning but rather a symptom of looking for meaning. And in all of our attachments we long for them to have meaning no matter how long they last. It is a scary thing to create such a drastic action that changes your life. It requires more than faith, there will be a second where only the action and what Kierkegaard called the infinite movement would have to occur. The final dance.

It is a dangerous thing to go back searching to your past. All things grow, that means all things change. Two parallel lines do not meet, unless in infinity. The past would always feel different experienced in the present. What if the fond memories go away if you live in them for a little while. Maybe I am going in circles cause it could go either way. Now orbits, orbits are different. Gravitational pull is at play. And if Newton’s laws are taken into account the only way to create an orbit is to have a force that pushes you into motion, but also pushes you at a distance where another orbit is able to push and pull yours in an equal way. I guess our gravity has to be flung out into the void at its own force in order to find a matching orbit.

It is hard to be true to yourself because it is hard to be yourself.

It is hard to know how to save the world if one has never lived in it.

It is funny to think our perceptions of the world change second to second as we continue to experience more of it. And that everyone is creating their own meaning and purpose with every second that they experience. It seems impossible not to get caught up, or lost, in those moments of constantly change and we as imperfect beings surely interpret our reality in false ways because no one can know the actual truth of the world only their perception of it. The actual truth of what is best for them is always an idea. The people that say that they live in the moment, as most people do, are often forgetting that the moment in the present should be used to progress. Successes and failures are only understood in moments in the future, based on the present, during moments of clarity in retrospect. For this reason, I think its important to forgive people in order to give ourselves freedom.

It is the same way someone can greet death, to look in her eyes. The light that shone over her black hair whether artificial or natural made it glisten, never choking out the grand her. There is this deep belief that you know that this person has the power to kill you. Even if it does not hurt, even if it is not a pang of pain you feel inside you at every moment that you think will or will never go away. It is there anyways, I think I may think about it everyday and wish it had been different. It was a possible outcome I would have liked to live in.

It is unfortunate that the mistakes of the parents are so easy to spot, while those of the children are yet to be committed.

It might be true that I am a lightweight when it comes to falling in love, heavy.

It is very often the ordinary things that go unnoticed that end up making a difference. As you embark upon your high school careers, be unnoticed, but be remarkable.

It only takes a single harrowing moment to realize that everyone is insane regardless of how sane they feel. That all decisions, reactions are justified by your individual madness. It is important to know it, this madness exists. I know it exists. I know how it impacts everything I do despite not knowing what reach my actions will have. Dust is just skin we have left behind and some people are more themselves than others.

I tried to push my body through his and completely disappear.

I took my friend’s hand as she helped me up. With our hands still linked and our flower crowns tangled in our hair, we danced, laughing with joy, through the rain and towards the school, the lightning showing us our path with its powerful light.

It’s a neighborhood where every dad has at least one job and where parents often end conversations with the words: no guts, no glory.

It's all a conundrum, isn't it— forgetting the mixed tape in the car... feeling forgotten when... so many people are thinking of us? Drinking when we should be eating... sleeping when we should be making love... thanking God above when we don't have enough? Each day is a mad rush to something irrelevant. We measure our pricelessness by our successes, which... still equals money. Life goes by so quick when each day is a mad rush to slow motion. We eat fast food so that we can go to bed on time, but, trust me, everyone wakes up too late.

It’s always better to accomplish something than nothing, but coming of age is about more than learning who you are inside: it’s as much about who you are in relation to others – and who you want to be

It's bewildering to me how you can just start chatting with a complete stranger on Facebook, and - next thing you know - it seems as if there's some intense connection with the person - or at least you feel that closeness and hope it's mutual

It seemed everyone knew their place in it, but I was in the mood where I would rather be alone and look a houseplants.

It's been nice having your van in my driveway. Maybe for just two weeks before you go, I can have the vision come untrue, long enough to forget when I thought I was going to have your van in my driveway every morning, and your sleepy noises the first thing that I heard in a day, as you whispered how you couldn't stay, but "wished you could," in independence's place. I told you, "I never revise a poem. Make sure, in your moment of self-defeat, that you are sure, because once I hit 'save', your decision will never delete.

It scored a direct hit on my eardrum and rattled around in side my head

It’s good if you can accept your life—you’ll notice Your face has become deranged trying to adjust To it. Your face thought your life would look Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten. That was a clear river touched by mountain wind. Even your parents can’t believe how much you’ve changed.

It's funny, the roles we play, the way we have to give up the old ones before we have room for the new ones. The first-first love stuff never goes away in here" she said, pointing to her head. "It makes you who you are. But in here," putting her hand on her chest, "time lets that grow and change. You'll see

It’s hard to describe, this feeling of seeing your kids spending time together like adults, meeting up again after being out there in the world like free agents. There’s something giddy and unreal about it. I knew that boy when he was afraid of strangers. I knew them both before they knew how to talk.

It's in a can. It's good forever.

It's like I'm dreaming of the imaginary friend Katie and I had when we were little. She'd been so real to us as kids. We each remembered Anna, that's what we'd called her, just like we remembered bits of our parents. But now, in this dreamscape of Paradise Lost, our imaginary third twin has all grown up.

It's not about becoming a movie star. It's about the down-in-the-dirt art of inhabiting the person you aspire to be while carrying on your shoulders the uncertain and hungry man you know you are.

It takes a lot for me to close a door, but when I do, I slam it.

It’s sad really, trying to appreciate all of the great events in our lives and all the amazingly good days. Sometimes it seems like we take them for granted, until something bad comes along to put us back into perspective. Are these bad events catalysts for change, which bring out the resiliency and best in us? A cosmic wakeup call that reminds us to enjoy the good times, because they can be taken away so easily. How messed up and ironic would that be? Is it even possible for us to remember what goodness we’re truly capable of on a daily basis, not just when things cause us to react out of necessity. A base line of beautiful acts and thoughts that are not brought out only by holiday music or someone else’s misfortune, but remain at the surface of who we really are. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Wouldn’t that be something to strive for?

It's strange when you no longer recognize yourself.

It sounded bizarre and I was afraid of what awaited me. We entered a town called Dobbs Ferry in Westchester County. We drove up a long hill past some houses and past a sign that read “Welcome to Children’s Village.” ” Excerpts From: Life of a Bastard Vol. 1 By Damien Black

It’s too much. And I don’t want to embrace the suck. I want things to not suck. And I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

It was all a leaving light. A thing that passed in the distance, that was never yours, this and that world; empty, devoid of reason, but you could still imagine it happy: before the dark wood, before you had entered this place. Where there was no other place to go but forward. Everything you despised you could still come to miss. A little view that resembles what you once knew. So you survived the flood, you survived the apocalypse, left as the last one kneeling but what now? You have seen stars collapse on themselves, drawing light from the dark. We are living with the lives we choose, however we exiled ourselves there and to which island. What is worth dying for, you say as the blade turns further into you. A bed to rest.

It was a sacrifice worthy of her and dreams are made to be killed.

It was during that journey to Via Orazio that I began to be made unhappy by my own alienness. I had grown up with those boys, I considered their behavior normal, their violent language was mine. But for six years now I had also been following daily a path that they were completely ignorant of and in the end I had confronted it brilliantly. With them I couldn’t use any of what I learned every day, I had to suppress myself, in some way diminish myself. What I was in school I was there obliged to put aside or use treacherously, to intimidate them. I asked myself what I was doing in that car. They were my friends, of course, my boyfriend was there, we were going to Lila’s wedding celebration. But that very celebration confirmed that Lila, the only person I still felt was essential even though our lives had diverged, no longer belonged to us and, without her, every intermediary between me and those youths, that car racing through the streets, was gone. Why then wasn’t I with Alfonso, with whom I shared both origin and flight? Why, above all, hadn’t I stopped to say to Nino, Stay, come to the reception, tell me when the magazine with my article’s coming out, let’s talk, let’s dig ourselves a cave that can protect us from Pasquale’s driving, from his vulgarity, from the violent tones of Carmela and Enzo, and also—yes, also—of Antonio?

It was if I made love to a nymph of the mountains or air or wind and she had come to me to make me fall in love and leave, with some grand plan behind those actions. The last time I saw her she was just looking anywhere but me, a magical siren who I was helpless to look at staring at her distant gaze. A side profile of one of the most beautiful things I would ever see, with her hair blowing through the fall Melbourne wind.

It was not about the sea or the sand, but burying her feet there had seemed to cure what had worried her...

It was almost painful to be different.

It was cold out here in this world beyond childhood.

It was in Kuala Lumpur that I saw the tree roots at the botanical gardens grow as much outside of the ground as inside. I saw what used to be the tallest building in the world still appreciated for its beauty long after it lost its title. I thought people could be like buildings, still adored despite their best years behind them. I heard the horns of cars drown out the sound of fountains spurting illuminated shades of violet and crashing against themselves and I thought it was time to leave, to head home the same way I left it; expecting things to be a different way than how they actually will work out. The actions of ones life, makes his life, and in this way things can disappear but never leave. A person that sees beauty in only the grand has never witnessed true beauty, if the abyss is to remind us of anything it is that there is beauty in nothingness and everything. The forest that has no trees, no stones, no path and no flowers is still a forest because of the feeling one can get walking through it which leaves me wondering if the grand zero is everything, that reality was a moment in which I both existed and ceased to exist.

It was the year Frankie thought about the world. And she did not see it as a round school globe, with the countries neat and different-colored. She thought of the world as huge and cracked and loose and turning a thousand miles an hour.

It was the kind of summer evening that made Ursula want to be alone. 'Oh,' Izzie said, 'You're at an age when a girl is simply consumed by the sublime.' Ursula wasn't sure what she meant ('No one is ever sure what she means,' Sylvie said) but she thought she understood a little. There was a strangeness in the shimmering air, a sense of imminence that made Ursula's chest feel full, as if her heart was growing. It was a kind of high holiness - she could think of no other way of describing it. Perhaps it was the future, she thought, coming nearer all the time.

I've always kept one emotional suitcase packed. With you, I live out of one, every day, and I keep a cab on speed dial.

I’ve always seen this in you, ever since you were a little girl — this hunger to love other people into their highest selves and it’s what has made me irreversibly and just so forever in love with you.

I've lost touch with myself. It seems like she and I have not touched base for ages, I can't remember the last time I talked to her, honest to God. She's always been my best friend—my vicarious better half. It's such a shame, really... I wish I knew what she was up to these days. I really, REALLY do. It's not as though you can close a bond like ours when the room gets too messy; you can't just shut the door. It's common knowledge they'll only open a window ...and sneak out. I don't know where she is now. She could be on a train to the other coast, for all I know. I quit listening to her wishes a long time ago. Shame on me.

I’ve lived for nothing and might soon die for less. My Life, Part One will be cancelled midway through the first season

I want you to trust yourself, baby. Love is all that matters and you’ve always known that. You’ve known, since you were a very little girl, what your life is meant to be about…

I want you to travel roads that aren’t there, build bridges where none exist, sing songs that haven’t been written. I want you to love yourself fiercely, love others courageously, love life unapologetically. I want you to shatter expectations, break out of cages, and dance in crowded streets while it rains.