Best 660 quotes in «coming of age quotes» category

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 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 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 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 the masses are against you, when fear is on every side, and when it seems like you are standing alone, that is when you should stand the tallest. That is when you plant yourself like a mountain, and you do what your heart knows is right. Even if death will be your only reward.

When they reached the top of the hill they turned and looked down at the valley. Moominhouse was just a blue dot, and the river a narrow ribbon of green: the swing they couldn't see at all. "We've never been such a long way from home before," said Moomintroll, and a little goose-fleshy thrill of excitement came over them at the thought.

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

When you fall in love for the last time, it becomes the first.

When you find the one, when you share the spark of kismet, then it becomes inconceivable to walk through life with anyone else.

When You See Millions of the Mouthless Dead" When you see millions of the mouthless dead Across your dreams in pale battalions go, Say not soft things as other men have said, That you'll remember. For you need not so. Give them not praise. For, deaf, how should they know It is not curses heaped on each gashed head? Nor tears. Their blind eyes see not your tears flow. Nor honour. It is easy to be dead. Say only this, "They are dead." Then add thereto, "Yet many a better one has died before." Then, scanning all the o'ercrowded mass, should you Perceive one face that you loved heretofore, It is a spook. None wears the face you knew. Great death has made all his for evermore.

When you're finally a grown-up, one of the things you find is that there are no grown-ups.

Wherever Cool is, anyway, I missed it, and now I'm stuck observing these machinations or sex and status and dancing and parties and people sucking at each other under the bleacher seating like some kind of freak, when I'm not the freak; Rich is the freak. Clearly. When I grow up, that had better be understood and I had better be compensated, or I'm going to shoot myself in the head.

Why did you wear heels? How are you supposed to fight a gargoyle in what you're wearing?

Who is old enough to ask, is old enough to know.

Why can't a girl just want to know stuff and not do stuff?

Why couldn't she have given him a sultry laugh as she'd seen women do in movies instead of giggling like some enchanted, mindless school girl?

Why are you making no more songs?' I said to him in a tone like that. 'Why are you making no more songs?' 'I have grown to be a man. Only children make songs -- children and idiots.

Why is it so hard? It's hard because it matters, I think.

Whuppins were like kid taxes we paid with our behinds.

Will you tame your fear or let it control you?

Y aunque no había transcurrido, yo percibía inmensos espacios de tiempo entre mi ayer taciturno y mi hoy vaciloso. Pensé: Ahora que todo ha cambiado, ¿quién soy yo dentro del amplio uniforme?

Women did what strawberry plants did before they shot out their thin vines: the quality of the green changed. Then the vine threads came, then the buds. By the time the white petals died and the mint-colored berry poked out, the leaf shine was gilded tight and waxy.

With all those one night stands of his,” Nat explains, “he had to learn to dress fast. He has to get out of there before a girl can think he might actually care.” I look at Drew and he shrugs again. “They know what they’re getting into,” he says. “Why complicate things with emotional stuff?” “You’re a pig, you know that?” Rachel calls out from the pool., Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

Words are a weapon, and rotten kids like Tyler Jones get a free pass when it comes to using them because the marks they leave are invisible. Why don't more adults realize that?

...ya can't get to Nevada on five bucks and a bad heart...

Yes, King Eirik, I can't do this alone. I'm not a knight or even a fighter for that matter. I'm just a normal boy, who is looking for his Grandfather.

Yo ahora era un hombre libre, y ¿qué tiene que ver la sociedad con la libertad?

Yo soy mi propio hogar, mi lugar es este en el que me encuentro y nada puede impedirlo, como cuando ese fabuloso azul antes del alba da paso rápidamente a un amanecer de una belleza distinta.

Yet I had become very attached to George Roc. I liked him, not for the joy of playing with him, not for some talent that made him stand out from the rest, not even for his kindness: above all, I liked him because he was always sad and because the things he told me caused me a degree of pain.....George Roc was the first being that I'd met who saw and felt himself unhappy.

You are meant to be, despite how you got here; you’ll see someday.

You can keep moving your blowup mattress around in the night where the shadows keep you pretty, and cover your face, so that no one can see that you have a home in me that you won't admit you'll never and always be: the beach bum of my heart.

You'd be wise to learn, child, that this is no fairy tale.

You come to me, you appear to me in the night, the fact that you're not here appears to me, that I can't tell you this even though I pretend like I can, not being able to ever tell you is still something I can't understand. That you could have taken so long to decompose, too, that, too, I can't believe there's still so much left of you, down there, buried, hair and things like that, skin. I don't want to take anything, I never wanted to, and I would give (I don't know what, not everything because you wouldn't be there, but I'd give a lot) so much to be able to tell you, for real, to see you, to sing a song with you, shout it out hugging each other, have you over to my apartment, for you to get to know my house and my boyfriend, the one I have now, and have him get to know you and have you tell me which one's better, which one you like better, if it's Juli, if it's him, even though obviously you would like Manuel better, and in reality you wouldn't care about either of them, because the two of us is enough, there's nothing else, we never needed anything else, although we did.

You don't have to go back to the way things were. Just go back to the point where you left off. Don't start over... just keep going, but there's a right way of keeping going. And no one here is going to be angry at you for leaving. We all have to leave sometimes. And some of us never come back. But there's always a choice, even if you've already decided never to return. You can still come back from this. That is the only kind of faith that matters. Not in the world, not in...God..., not in our friendship... just in yourself.

You know one day, you're going to look back on these days. And everyone you went to high school with will either be getting married to each other, shitting out kids, or dropping dead like flies," when she spoke, Miss Jenson sighed at the end of every few words; she must have been narrating her own thoughts she might have otherwise kept to herself, "and everything you never did, you'll never be able to even try.

You haunt my days and dreams.

You go and do what you need to do, June," she says to me. "You go and find what you need. Your supper will be here, when you need it. Your supper will be warm. No matter where I am, that will be your home," she says. And I can't believe it, watching her. That look on her face. It is all the love that I didn't have growing up, making a face.

You'll get fired if anyone finds out about us!" "So many rules in this century," Vane muttered.

You'll never have to fend for yourself like that, Lincoln. You never have to be alone. Why would you want to?" He leaned back against his bedroom wall and slunk down until he was sitting on the cast-iron radiator. "I just...," he said. "Just?" "I need to live my life." "You aren't living your own life now?" she asked. "I certainly never tell you what to do." "No, I know, it's just..." "Just?" "It doesn't feel like I'm living my own life." "What?" "It feels like, as long as I stay home, I'm still living your life. like I'm still a kid." "That's silly," she said. "Maybe," he said.

Your layered, sweater-y, thickset hug around me—I dared to dream of your bare, balmy, broken-down skin tangled in mine. It was a twist of artless fate in my mind. I watched you pull away... on your "Naked" bike. I was covered in a trench coat, but more than naked enough for the both of us....

You really are sort of a basic person, aren’t you, except for that blue stratospheric veneer of crust you wrap yourself around. I was going to ask you, with your usual never-ending broadside complaints of lack and wearisome bushwa ‘nonsensical’ humdrum excuses, just exactly what kind of person are you? You must have had it easy growing up. Now, as per your habit, tonight when you hit the hay, percle on this: There are 7even basic types of people—: 1. People who make things happen. 2. People who talk about making things happen. 3. People who start to make things happen but never finish. 4. People who watch things happen. 5. People who wonder what just happened. 6. People who don’t have the faintest idea that anything happened. 7. People who need a stout “clue-by-four” of hickory smacked up alongside their head to make them happen. — As for an eighth— —Which one are you? Puzȥle it out. . . . -- Thomas Kannon, Instructor to Brickley. The Lady and the Samurai

You’re you. Uniquely, wonderfully you.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

You only go through High School once, but if you go through the way we did, that's enough.

Your mother would have more luck winning her election than teaching you how to be charming. Izzy Malone, going to charm school! Are you going to walk across the room with a book stuck on your head?" "No, it's not like that at all," I said as he doubled over with laughter. "And I really don't see what's so funny." "It's just that"--he gasped--"it would be like teaching a hippo to wear high heels!

Your own life starts the moment you're born. Before that, even." "I just, I feel like as long as I live with you, I won't... I'm not... It's like George Jefferson." "From the TV show?" "Right. George Jefferson. As long as he was on 'All in the Family', he was just somebody who made Archie Bunker's story more interesting. He didn't have anything of his own. He didn't have a plot or supporting characters. I don't know if you ever even got to see his house. But after he got his own show, George had his own living room and kitchen... and bedroom, I think. He even had his own elevator. Places for him to exist in, for his story to happen. Like this apartment. This is something that's mine.

Your personal truth is your gift to the world.

You see, there is a major downfall to living in a tourist town. You guessed it, the constant turnover of new people. You cannot really connect with anyone because no one is ever here for more than two weeks every year, if they comeback at all. The intruders never thought about what happens once they leave. ~ Stella

You’ve always been my summer.”, Loving Summer by Kailin Gow