Best 660 quotes in «coming of age quotes» category

Most of the conversation was said with our eyes. Our eyes told truths neither of us could understand. Her a Goddess and me her pew. It was spent with me looking at her and her looking elsewhere. Perpendicular.

Mother Teresa said, "To keep a lamp burning we have to keep oil in it." Now, I am no Mother Teresa, but... I am not even dealing oil because when you mix it with water, well, you know... We all know: I love with kerosene.

Murphy's law inverted: What can go right, will go right. (Works if you're an optimist.)

Murphy's law inverted: What can go right, will go right.

My darlings! You can hardly expect an aged crone like me to mar such a lovely event. No, I shall remain here and knit shadows. Now go forth and shine bravely, and think of nothing but love.

My experience showed me an ugly side of our human nature. That if we are told it’s alright to step on someone, we will do so, in joy that we are not the one being stepped on. If we are told we can treat someone as lesser, we will do it, since it means we are more than they are.” -Norrie, Seeing Through Sampson's Eyes

My father's attitude was that this was but an inevitable phase of my growing up and he affected to take it lightly. But beneath his jocular, boys-together air, he was at a loss, he was frightened. Perhaps he had supposed that my growing up would bring us closer together— whereas, now that he was trying to find out something about me, I was in full flight from him. I did not want him to know me. I did not want anyone to know me. And then, again, I was undergoing with my father what the very young inevitably undergo with their elders: I was beginning to judge him. And the very harshness of this judgment, which broke my heart, revealed, though I could not have said it then, how much I had loved him, how that love, along with my innocence, was dying.

My fish dream is a sex dream.

My memories from this period are often nebulous. They bend and warp like clouds caught between two fronts. A lot of terrible things happened to me that I try not to remember, but I was a child, I was innocent, and I used to be happy sometimes. ” Excerpt From: Life of a Bastard Vol. 1 By Damien Black

My mama says people saying no is just like using the back door to get into the house. You can still get in, just a different way.

My mom says . . . there are bad people who hurt others for fun . . . and there are good people who do it by accident. Like, they make a mistake? I think you're a good person.

My name is Arianna Morganna Brittany DuLac--you can imagine why I went by the name Ryan.

My wishing star glowed slightly and winked back at me. I could almost hear its voice, tinkling like wind chimes and church bells, reassuring me that everything would return to normal.

Nature was beautiful and I felt in tune with the universe, like every single decision I had made had brought me to here, to the glowing now. And here is such a beautiful place to be

No tie is as strong as family, making it the hardest one to break.

No one can steal your freedom from you. You can only give it away.

Nature, or the natural, that is what we find beauty in. The idea that some idea belongs in part of an order. That it is more than coincidence or a strange occurrence or a singular moment but rather that it is a coincidence or a strange occurrence or a singular moment that is natural to our being is what makes it beautiful. As if being anywhere else but where we are would be wrong, a pale version of the beauty our hearts imagined.

Neither of us fit in, so instead we fit together.

No, everybody's gotta learn, nobody's born knowin'. That Walter's as smart as he can be, he just gets held back sometimes because he has to stay out and help his daddy. Nothin's wrong with him. Naw, Jem, I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks." .... "That's what I thought too," he said at last, "when I was your age. If there's just one kind of folks, why can't they get along with each other? If they're all alike, why do they go out of their way to despise each other? Scout, I think I'm beginning to understand why Boo Radley's stayed shut up in the house all this time . . . it's because he wants to stay inside.

No,' Nora said, almost in a whisper. 'It's because -' she looked carefully for the words - 'you didn't stare at me. I saw you blush, and you immediately lowered your eyes. And I should have been embarrassed, ashamed... but I, I just felt safe, and I stood there unafraid.' She closed her eyes, taking in all the feelings of gratitude she had for that moment. 'That's when I knew I could trust you in a way that I didn't know was possible.

Not long after my mom died, my dad pretty much kicked me out of the house. He never said, “Get out of my house,” but instead, I came home one night to find all my clothes scattered all over our front lawn.

Now she knows that in the intervening years Connell has been growing slowly more adjusted to the world, a process of adjustment that has been steady if sometimes painful, while she herself has been degenerating, moving further and further from wholesomeness, becoming something unrecognisably debased, and they have nothing left in common at all.

not knowing what I needed to do or where I needed to go, I knew all the same that I was going in the right direction.

Oh, darling, I’m not alone.” Aunt Sookie smiles as she looks over at me. “I have a wonderful trio of young people back in my house, all of whom are like family to me. I have you here, and you’re more like a daughter to me than a niece.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

Oh, Summer, I’m sorry. It’s just that he’s so totally hot, and… not as hot as Ryan, obviously.” “Obviously,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

Oh. My. God. Astor Fairway.” She looks from him to me, to Aunt Sookie. “You’re actually bringing Astor Fairway home for dinner?” “If we can get through the door,” Aunt Sookie says gently. “It’s all right,” Astor says. He holds out a hand. “Hi. You’re Rachel, right? Summer’s best friend?” Rachel shakes his hand and then looks at her hand. “I just shook Astor Fairway’s hand. I…” “Rachel,” I say, taking her back inside and letting the others past. “Will you try to maybe not act like a total fan for a moment?”, Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

Oh yes, he's seen the black pupils of time's eyes. Two dark drains in a pair of dirty gas station bathroom sinks. The faucet's open and he's gurgling down the pipes, gushing toward whatever tank he's bound to swirl around in for the rest of his life. There's no telling from here if that's a realm of purification or of shit. There's only one way to find out, and that's to ride it all the way down.

Our adolescent sons are eager to become heroes in our eyes, and in the eyes of the world.

Once upon a time ago, you loved me in Photoshop. When I was monochromatic, you gave me texture. You went through my layer mask and hit......'Reveal All'. I remember when you stared at me like I was saturated; but, sometimes I don't remember that once upon a time ago without seeing your background image losing its magic lens.

Once we were inside the walls of Rahway Prison the mood changed. We were patted down for weapons and given a tour. They showed us how to make improvised weapons that people would hide in their ass. The guards pointed out the young guys who had become someone’s bitch.” Excerpt From: Life of a Bastard Vol. 1 By Damien Black

On est forcé d'être des enfants toute sa vie. C'est pour ça que ceux qui veulent devenir des hommes sont malheureux. Vous voulez chanter l'opéra? On rit de vous. Vous voulez vous conduire en monsieur avec les femmes? Elles vous traitent de tapette si vous n'êtes pas champion avec des muscles gros comme ça. Vous voulez avoir une bonne position dans un bureau? La compétence, c'est toujours les autres qui l'ont.

On her fifteenth anniversary, she lined up her thirty six dolls and beheaded them with a single swing, proudly announcing the end of her childhood.

On evenings, I spent the entire study period reading.... From that time on, the world began to broaden around me, beyond any tangible limits. The world, as portrayed in those works destined for young people, was divided in two: an ordinary, everyday world, brutal and unresponding to desires, and a spacious, logical world, about all kind, interesting and desirable. Wasn't the very act of reading a pleasure more substantial than that of playing or eating, for instance, even when one was starved?

Oscar always said that books are truly our best friends. He said that they never think poorly of us and that they always have a shoulder for us to cry on or relieve stress. They take our minds away from the real world by telling us captivating stories. When we look back at our choice of books, we can nostalgically recall our younger years.

Our sons are on a Hero’s Journey. They are navigating a transformative passage from boyhood to manhood, which requires them to leave behind the well-known world of childhood and cross a threshold, filled with many challenges, into a new world where much is unknown. Along their journey, our boys need an abundance of real-life, positive role models – everyday heroes and heroines – to look to for guidance and inspiration. They also must begin to see themselves as heroes – the authors of their own lives, armed with the noble qualities and courage needed to complete their journey and arrive at manhood with integrity.

People age even in pictures. Champagne glasses can stay full. With enough of a leap you could say that pictures amongst the galaxies and quasars capture a tiny bit of the universe for however long they last. The only thing pictures cannot do is keep someone alive in anything but memory after they have passed. Some pictures although painful to look at should always stay up on our walls to remind us from time to time of who we have loved.

Paradoxically, the more Michael kept me at a distance, the more I trusted him - perhaps because he was always willing to help me with tips and introductions even though he wanted absolutely nothing from me (and never reciprocated my nosiness with personal questions of his own with me).

Patience is the virtue that forges great men.

People are scared to talk about death, they fear what is inevitable because it ends the current chapter without knowing if there will be a sequel, but it would be so beautiful to wake up as your flower. Or an atom, part of some distant planet with you. We could collide until we merged like all the physics teachers said was inevitable. Neutrons, protons and some unforeseen gravitational force. We could be drops of UV rays on the skin of some moon. I am always stuck at writing a sentence without you, no writers block would be worth not thinking of you.

Partying and dancing have never been my thing, but drinking I could do with reasonable familiarity and skills. I decided to begin there.

People promise each other the world until they are not given it. We give until we no longer receive something of equal or greater value. Life and love is nothing more than re-gifting. When we don't like what we get, we save it for someone else, and hope, with all of our hearts, the the next package is better.

People will drive by their high school ten years down the road, just so they can pretend that thinking "not much has changed" is actually true. When really, everything has changed. The air smells the same, but the roads have cracked more. The roads have cracked so much they now look like the skin on a crocodile's back. And all the fields, green in the summers, golden in the autumns, have all been paved over with new reasons to never come back.

People spend time trying to impress people through the things they do and say in a tone any louder than a gasped whisper. The mass commodification of cool is perverse in the sense that the individual defining the term has its basis in what they think others will idolise in their own individuality. If there was no ego there would be no cool. If there was no cool, people would see more beauty. They would stop seeing their lives as more important than others based on what they themselves value

Perhaps love doesn't divert sound judgment.

Perhaps death is just a big lie.

...people who don't live at least a little bit in fear, have nothing left to live for.

People work, not me. I look out the window, look out the window, out the window. Outside it's winter, and it's sunny. The doors don't shut properly, they don't shut, they're old. A phone rings through the wall. How come it takes such daunting effort to do what one likes? It's daunting, daunting to begin. I find it daunting to get started, and that seems not to be a fixable thing. The road to success, the road to success. Who knows? I get tired of myself. As pleasant as I find it here, as pleasant as a I find it. Did anyone pick up? In any case, the phone stopped ringing. What works better in fiction? Past or present tense? Weekends make me cranky, I don't like them, that imperative to have a good time, do things, do something special, the notion of free time. I prefer to seek out those things while other people work. People relaxing tend to look ridiculous, like out of place, grotesque. I'm unmotivated, a little, I realize, bored, overly calm, almost comfortable. I don't like where I live anymore, I'm fed up, I'm fed up with where I live. I want, somehow, to live differently. I'd take care of it, I'd take care of that baby if he gave it to me, if he wanted to give it to me, if he wanted.

Perhaps friendship doesn't divert sound judgment.

Perspective is reality, perspective can be changed, therefore reality can be too. In this way reality then becomes subjective.

P.S. Please don't call me Isabella. That name belongs to a really pretty girl who never wrecks her clothes and who never gets dirt under her fingernails. That's definitely not me. My name is Izzy.