Best 660 quotes in «coming of age quotes» category

Today I hate myself for loving you, and I hate myself for not being strong enough to love you back... when I know broken boys like you need me, too.

To live in this world, I realized, is to leave pieces of your heart in various places; and to move toward any place is to move away from another.

To prove to [her friend, Swedish diplomat Count] Gyllenborg that she was not superficial, Catherine composed an essay about herself, "so that he would see whether I knew myself or not." The next day, she wrote and handed to Gyllenborg an essay titled 'Portrait of a Fifteen-Year-Old Philosopher.' He was impressed and returned it with a dozen pages of comments, mostly favorable. "I read his remarks again and again, many times [Catherine later recalled in her memoirs]. I impressed them on my consciousness and resolved to follow his advice. In addition, there was something else surprising: one day, while conversing with me, he allowed the following sentence to slip out: 'What a pity that you will marry! I wanted to find out what he meant, but he would not tell me.

Tornadoes devastate and leave a mess behind, just like your ending, so the instant that 'Psychlone' sees you rebuilding, she's going to spin completely out of control, every time. You can't get sucked into the same vortex twice if you eject the monster from being it's own victim; but until then, I'd pull in your rocking chairs, lock down your trash cans and recycling bins, and take your potted azaleas inside... ... if I were you.

True friends don't come with conditions.

Turns out, most girls would rather put on lip gloss than play with sand toads.

Two insane idiots with the same idea, that is what love is.

Unfortunately, I am only myself. I am scared and alone and unsure, but I am practicing. I am scared and alone and unsure, but that doesn't mean I always will be. Like AJ repeating words, I can repeat being me, until I start to believe it.

Vane’s lips tightened to suppress a smile. “Why so hostile, love?” “You whacked me on the head with a ball!” “You deserved it.

Usted tiene condiciones innegables, pero estudie, usted cree que porque piensa lo ha hecho todo, y pensar no es nada más que un principio.

Vane grabbed me. “DuLac, let’s chat.” Chat. British-speak for “Stand still while I yell at you.

Veins raised themselves along the backs of my hands that summer. My handwriting changed several times. I began reading Time magazine. Soon after that it was time to go.

Was Jane now. All Jane. Come calamity or come calm, was myself and none else.

Was still between Martha and Jane, then, I was. Between the girl I was and who I wanted to be.

wasn’t no bit of me willing to ride shotgun to my own funeral.

We don't have a choice of whom we fall in love with. We don't have a choice of whom we fall out of love with. We only have a choice to stay or leave— it's a set menu at a fixed price. But, what if we don't like either of our options?

We all have the beast in us Bill, and it is up to us to control it.

We are brilliant shades of light, we can not be contained" -Boys of the Fatherless-

We'd all be leaving one another, going to other places in the fall; and now that the season was changing, rushing towards graduation, everything we did felt like a long good-bye or a premature reunion. We were nostalgic for a time that wasn't yet over.

We do not want to be told what we know. We do not want to call things by their names, although we're willing to call one another bad ones. We call meanness nobility and hatred honor. The way to make yourself a hero is to make me out a scoundrel. You won't admit that either, but it's true.

We forget to thank those that hurt us the most.

We had sat on a bench to take a moments break earlier and we discussed the possibility of always being this high, obviously in love with the feeling of the world being perfect. Daren was sold on this possibility, thinking that this was the way to happiness. As happy as it made me I knew it was an experience that could not be repeated. When an experience is new or when it has not been felt in a long time, that is when it is its most profound. I knew it could not be repeated the same way. Beauty is so rarely repeated in experience. So they say, pleasure comes in halves.

Well, can you tell her that?" He looked down at his feet. "I will. I will." Guy-speak for, "I plan to keep avoiding her until she gives up.

Well, most of us think the “Merchant of Venice” is a porno script. On a more personal note, I’ve decided on pizza for dinner.

We laughed as we ducked behind a pile of snow. Then our brothers came charging through the barrier, sending the four of us sliding down a white slope full of cherished memories.

Well that’s open to debate,’ he said. 'It sounds like a recipe for disaster to me, and I hate the thought of you throwing yourself at guys just to try and get laid. Christ, I’d do you myself if I thought it would keep you safe.’ ‘Now that’s true friendship,’ I said, cracking under the severity of his tone.

We love each other. You love me, you do.” His eyes beseech me to believe it, to remember it, to feel it.

We love our partners for who they are, not for who they are not.

We make people into Gods, desperate that they never leave us and hopeful that someday, if we ever deserve it, maybe they’ll love us back even half way.

We're about to hit that age when we'll be too exhausted to maintain friendships, and the days of hanging out will be long behind us.

We were all deeply more ourselves than we had been before.

We think and believe that we are exceptional. We have created so many stories around how exceptional humans are. We were created by the hands of the divine, and the universe is our gift. We believe that it was all created to serve us, but the reality of the matter is, we are not exceptional except for our ability to kill beauty and destroy. We are not as fast as the gazelle or a cheetah; we can't fly like birds; we don't have fur to protect us in the cold; we don't have natural strength to lift heavy objects like a gorilla or an elephant. We created fables to explain our presence, even scientific ones that we can't prove. It is all unproven theories, on all sides. We are not exceptional; we are only exceptional when we work together and in sync with nature like every other creature.

We were so awkward, morning pimples in the mirror, hair where we never wanted it, and we thought of the lung cancer X-ray that was the album art for Surfin' Safari, considered the ways a body betrays its soul, and wondered if growing up was its own kind of pathology. We fell in and out of love with fevered frequency. We constantly became people we would later regret having been.

What a wonderful word, future. Of all the abstractions we can articulate to ourselves, of all the concepts we have that other animals do not, how extraordinary the ability to consider a time that's never been experienced. And how tragic not to consider it. It galls us, we with such a limited future, to see someone brush it aside as meaningless, when it has an endless capacity for meaning, and an endless number of meanings that can be found within it.

What did I think? Right then I was thinking about my father, specifically his habit of treating everyone with courtesy and consideration, of how he used to stop on lower Division Street and converse genially with old black men from the Hill whom he knew from his early days as a route man. His kindness and interest weren't feigned, nor did they derive, I'm convinced, from any perceived send of duty. His behavior was merely an extension of who he was. But here's the thing about my father that I've come to understand only reluctantly and very recently. If he wasn't the cause of what ailed his fellow man, neither was he the solution. He believed in "Do unto Others." It was a good, indeed golden, rule to by and it never occurred to him that perhaps it wasn't enough. "You ain't gotta love people," I remember him proclaiming to the Elite Coffee Club guys at Ikey's back in the early days. Confused by mean-spirited behavior, he was forever explaining how little it cost to be polite, to be nice to people. Make them feel good then they're down because maybe tomorrow you'll be down. Such a small thing. Love, he seemed to understand, was a very big thing indeed, its cost enormous and maybe more than you could afford if you were spendthrift. Nobody expects that of you, asny more than they expected you to hand out hundred-dollar bills on the street corner. And I remember my mother's response when he repeated over dinner what he'd told the men at the store. "Really, Lou? Isn't that exactly what we're supposed to do? Love people? Isn't that what the Bible says?

What can I do?” his gaze on me was intense, like I was some sort of love guru or something. I almost laughed out loud at how unqualified I was for that position.

What had those vile creatures unleashed in me? What beast had they awakened? I think I vowed to kill the beast and bury it so deep in the abyss it would never again rear its ugly head. Part of me did make this promise. The other part embraced an unfolding of life’s inextinguishable flames and the mind’s unspoken bondage. As far as reinforcing the strength of my mind’s resolve, I supposed my body was a useless entity. Rather, it was this fancy thing I lived in—a mausoleum that beckoned the living, promising gratification, refuge, solace, peace, even immortality. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t mine. I realized then, it had never belonged to me. I could control what happened to it only if people were merciful. Watching Valentin was not merciful. It was a torturous joy.

Whatever happens in the rest of this summer, whatever happens the rest of your life, it’s important that you are happy, and stay that way.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

What’s so beautiful about girls?” I would implore. And the secret society of adults would reply with a smirk and wink as if I was merely a boy who couldn’t possibly have the mental maturity to comprehend such grown-up concepts as love and bleeding vaginas; “You’ll understand someday, James.

what I like and what I need’s two different things.

What is the word that describes that feeling of complete of absent mindedness mixed with a sobering clarity. Like staring at a room that has gone blindingly full of light, a whiteness that keeps your mind attentive. What is the word for that feeling and does anyone else ever feel it? Do people begin everyday with their own prayer to a nameless god that is actually the universe? Are wishes our first thoughts of the day?

What's all this nonsense about odd vision and not fitting in? There are plenty worse things in this world than not fitting in--like fitting in way too much. You strike me as a real original, Izzy Malone, in a world that loves carbon copies. If you think you beautified something, I believe you. I've never understood why folks love safe, neutral colors so much. Colors are what make this world worth living in.

What in the world could this family have done to deserve a fate such as this?

When are you going to get a fella?" Lily asks Rose after a year or two of dancing. "I have one who wants to take me kissing, but I think I should wait for you to have one." Rose flushes. "I don't think I'll ever have a fella." "Why not?" Lily bristles. "We're plenty pretty." "I don't like the look of them," Rose says. Lily purses her lips at the dance floor, appraising. After a moment long, Rose says, "Any of them." Lily looks at her a long time, as Rose tries not to hyperventilate. Then Lily shrugs and says, "Well, then it's you who should have learned to lead, isn't it?" and when Rose clasps Lily's hand, she clasps it back. It's the closest they've ever been.

When it was time to board my flight, I took one last glance back. I knew that I had everything with me so it was not a "make sure I have everything" glance. It was more like a parting glance to Philadelphia, my home, America- for I would not be coming back for ten months. (Ch 5- Twenty in Paris)

When I said I’d stay over, I didn’t know that this was what you had in mind. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear. I… if you want me to go home now, that’s fine.”, Summer Jones in Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

When I was younger, my mom loved to garden. But the flowers would never grow. She kept planting seeds even thought nothing would grow. She just kept trying.' 'I don't understand.' 'Because you can't.' 'What does this have to do with anything?' I don't fiddle with my fingers and there's no apology on the tip of my tongue when I say, 'I am my mother's son.

When I was twenty-something, I asked my father, “When did you start feeling like a grownup?” His response: “Never.

When left unsatisfied, lust becomes violence.

When tongues lack bravery and hearts protect their own, eyes always tell the truth.