Quotessence
Home / Topics / Coming Of Age Quotes

Coming Of Age Quotes

Browse 926 quotes about Coming Of Age.

Related topics

Coming Of Age Quotes

“The posters on her wall, reminders of past obsessions, childhood dreams, and fleeting inspirations, seemed to stare at her, accusing. Once upon a time, they had meant something.”

“The words flowed like water, unstoppable. She wrote about dreams lost and found, about fear and longing, about hope that refused to die. And as she typed, she felt lighter, like maybe, just maybe, she was finally stepping out of the darkness.”

“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”

“Undoubtedly, you are overwrought from re-wroughting hand-wrought iron out right. But I think in time you will iron things out for yourself. Stay holstered and strapped to your side. It is said, ‘when genius matures it goes into hixibn’–“hiding.” You will know of this wisdom one day. --Thomas Kannon Sword Master, The Lady and the Samurai”

“As it would crop up so often during the outpouring of one of Christina’s convulsiving tirades of out-of-touch cross-examining razor manias in the Ockham style school of thought, someone would be damn fool enough to interject a thought disrupting her. Whereupon she would turn her head and politely respond, “Do you mind, I’m not through being evil yet,” and logicalmly carry on with giving them generous shafty portions of her mind pieces, unhasped and undisturbed by extenuating circumstances. She had heard in old Europe certain warrior tribes weaned their children by presenting them with food on the tip of a sword, a good custom she continued in spirit. --Christina Brickley, The Lady and the Samurai”

“Such was puberty, one big masochistic joke set in the halfway house of middle school, where kids endure the three most confusing and sensitive years of their lives, where girls who've already sprouted D cups and know about blow jobs sit beside girls in trainers from the Gap who still have crushes on anime characters. A time when anything that is unique about ourselves, anything that makes us depart ever so slightly from the collective, prototypical vision of popular beauty becomes an agonizing pockmark and self denial the only remedy at hand.”

“Para bien o para mal, tal vez esto era lo único que yo necesitaba después de todo: un cierre actuado para nuestro muy real final. Algo un poco más dulce que lo amargo que sentí hace años, cuando pareció que durante veinte días de octubre había encontrado a mi alma gemela justo antes de dejar de hablarle para siempre.”

“Driving home, I thought of Janice, wondering why I wasn’t upset or hurt by (William) Styron’s wine-soaked moves. Did I give his flirtations a pass because of the alcohol? Was it because he was a famous and a highly praised writer whom I'd wanted to meet? Or did I need to protect him since he was somebody, and I was nobody? I only knew that I didn’t feel abused, like I knew Janice had been…. Styron was famous. But so was Coach, at least in Soso.”

“At the sight of Queen Obadia, the air was driven from Nicholas’s lungs. It was as if Hercules himself had punched him in the gut. She’s beautiful! Nicholas fought for breath as he took in every feature of the royal figurehead who was now standing only a few paces from him. He knew there wasn’t a more exquisite creature on the face of the planet. Others around him were equally impressed.”

“Despite the fact that she was probably nearer forty than thirty, her radiance and beauty outshone that of the prettiest wahine. Statuesque, her golden skin was unblemished, and beneath the colourful cape that hung from her graceful shoulders her body was, in Nicholas’s opinion, perfection personified.”

“High cheek bones gave Queen Obadia's face a rare and exotic beauty, but her most riveting feature was her almond eyes. Large and hypnotic, they roamed over the faces of the visitors seated before her, settling for one magical instant on Nicholas’s face. In that split-second he thought he saw something register in the queen’s eyes. Then it was gone as she turned her attention to others.”

“Last night I dreamt Moses and I were rowing underwater. We could breathe and talk to one another. We rowed past schools of fish and sea anemones and Moses named them for me.” —Jules Finn”

“There was death at the beginning as there would be death again at its end. Though whether it was some fleeting shadow of this that passed across the girl’s dreams and woke her on that least likely of mornings she would never know. All she knew, when she opened her eyes, was that the world was somehow altered. The red glow of her alarm showed it was yet a half hour till the time she had set it to wake her and she lay quite still, not lifting her head, trying to configure the change. It was dark but not as dark as it should be. Across the bedroom, she could clearly make out the dull glint of her riding trophies on cluttered shelves and above them the looming faces of rock stars she had once thought she should care about. She listened. The silence that filled the house was different too, expectant, like the pause between the intake of breath and the uttering of words. Soon there would be the muted roar of the furnace coming alive in the basement and the old farmhouse floorboards would start their ritual creaking complaint. She slipped out from the bedclothes and went to the window. There was snow. The first fall of winter. And from the laterals of the fence up by the pond she could tell there must be almost a foot of it. With no deflecting wind, it was perfect and driftless, heaped in comical proportion on the branches of the six small cherry trees her father had planted last year. A single star shone in a wedge of deep blue above the woods. The girl looked down and saw a lace of frost had formed on the lower part of the window and she placed a finger on it, melting a small hole. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the thrill that this transformed world was for the moment entirely hers. And she turned and hurried to get dressed.”

“((وقتی احساس دلتنگی می کنیم به خاطر غیبت نیست به خاطر حضورست، کسی آمده دیدنت، آدم ها یا سرزمین ها از دور آمده اند و یک کمی کنارت می مانند که تنها نباشی.)) می گویم پس دُن رافانیه، گاهی که حس می کنم دلم تنگ شده چون از کسی دورم باید اسم این حس رو بگذارم حضور آن کس؟ بله، این طوری از دلتنگی استقبال می کنی، به اش خوش آمدید می گویی.”