Just as we are nowhere nearly as discerning or powerful as the young imagine us to be, so the young are nowhere nearly as happy and resilient as we imagine them to be. Both these illusions are conceits.
When we are young the weight of indeterminate possibility may be so great that it crushes us.
When we are young, we mistake ignorance of ourselves for freedom.
Since we are always younger than we will be, we should continually rejoice in our youth.
The self-righteousness of the young is the larval stage of the bitterness of age.
The vanity of the young is that they are all too easily lost in admiration of their own imaginary impossible selves . These figments all too readily steal real life from them and them from real life.