Fifteen Year Old Girls Quotes

When he was six, Victor had made a card for his father's birthday. On heavy drawing paper, he had written in big, multicolored letters: i love you dad. Now all that was past, over and done with. Bruno knew that things would only get worse, that they would move from mutual indifference to loathing. In a couple of years his son would try to go out with girls his own age; the same fifteen-year-old girls that Bruno lusted after. They would come to be rivals - which was the natural relationship between men. They would be like animals fighting in a cage; and the cage was time. ~ Michel Houellebecq

Fifteen-year-old girls produce children with sixteen-year-old boys in the backseat of cars and in the stairwells of apartment buildings. Why can't two loving adults who have contemplated parenthood and are prepared to offer love, patience, and devotion come up with enough chromosomal matter to stick together and create a child? ~ Scott Simon

I wasn't afraid of being alone, but I was afraid of what people would think about my solitary state. People, even well-intentioned people, were always trying to take away our quiet little successes and joys and replace them with big, overarching fears. At this school, the worst thing was trying to rise above the limits set for you by the minds of others. Each girl was an island of her own dreams and insecurities, thoughts that made us different in a deeper way than the differences of musical taste, clothes or even culture. Thoughts about the best way to be stoic, how to live with very little control in life, how to make the most of a miserable time doing something that you were supposed to love. And if people thought that fifteen-year-old girls never thought about these sorts of things, it was only because we didn't have the words to express them.
We talked all the time, but we hadn't yet learned the words to link thoughts and ideas with any depth of feeling, because we didn't really talk to adults. We talked only to each other. And within this little world, we imprisoned one another. You could be anyone you wanted, Linh– until you were judged and held captive by everyone else's thoughts. Nothing has a stronger hold over a girl than the fear of the thoughts of her peers– thoughts that change five times in a day. No wonder things are so complicated with teenagers. ~ Alice Pung

Each girl was an island of her own dreams and insecurities, thoughts that made us different in a deeper way than the differences of musical tastes, clothes or even culture. Thoughts about the best way to be stoic, how to live with very little control in life, how to make the most of a miserable time doing something you were supposed to love. And if people thought that fifteen year old girls never thought about these sorts of things, it was only because we didn't have the words to express them. ~ Alice Pung

The Operative tried to implement the Purusey breathing technique, which has been proven effective at fooling polygraphs. There is no conclusive evidence as to
whether it is effective at masking the internal lie detectors of fifteen-year-old boys. ~ Ally Carter

It's been fifteen years, Imi. You don't know anything about the person I've become. How can you say we're anything to each other?"
I put my hand on his chest, ignoring the feel of his ribs beneath his skin. I pressed my palm over his heart. Thud. Thud. Thud.
"I know who you are in here. I trusted the eighteen-year-old boy who made sure I was fed. Who protected me. Who loved me. And I trust the man he became. Sure, people can change, but I see who you are. ~ A Meredith Walters

Can you believe it? Here's a 15-year-old girl pinching pennies to buy strainers and whetstones and tempura pots when all the girls in school are getting huge allowances and buying beautiful dresses and shoes. Don't you feel sorry for me? ~ Haruki Murakami

Until one morning, one of the coldest mornings of the year, when I came in with the book cart and found Jean Hollis Clark, a fellow librarian, standing dead still in the middle of the staff room.
"I heard a noise from the drop box," Jean said.
"What kind of noise?"
"I think it's an animal."
"A what?"
"An animal," Jean said. "I think there's an animal in the drop box."
That was when I heard it, a low rumble from under the metal cover. It didn't sound like an animal. It sounded like an old man clearing his throat.
Gurr-gug-gug. Gurr-gug-gug.
But the opening at the top of the chute was only a few inches wide, so that would be quite a squeeze for an old man. It had to be an animal. But what kind? I got down on my knees, reached over the lid, and hoped for a chipmunk.
What I got instead was a blast of freezing air. The night before, the temperature had reached minus fifteen degrees, and that didn't take into account the wind, which cut under your coat and squeezed your bones. And on that night, of all nights, someone had jammed a book into return slot, wedging it open. It was as cold in the box as it was outside, maybe colder, since the box was lined with metal. It was the kind of cold that made it almost painful to breathe.
I was still catching my breath, in fact, when I saw the kitten huddled in the front left corner of the box. It was tucked up in a little space underneath a book, so all I could see at first was its head. It loo ~ Vicki Myron

Benjamin Fitzpatrick was admitted to the practice of law in Alabama in 1821. Within five years, having participated in some law suits regarding conflicting property claims among slaveholders, he had built up a clientele sufficiently broad to allow him to begin acquiring slaves. In 1826 Fitzpatrick purchased three slaves for a thousand dollars; in 1827 he bought a fifteen-year-old boy for four hundred dollars. The following year he spent over five hundred dollars on a seventeen-year-old girl and her six-month-old son, $975 on a sixteen-year-old girl along with a twelve-year-old mulatto and a nine-year-old boy. Later in 1828, he added a boy named Peter and a woman named Betsey ~ James Oakes

And Bish thought it strange that seventeen-year-old girls who had sex with idiot boys could still cry like babies for their fathers. ~ Melina Marchetta

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt, for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a flyaway look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman and didn't like it. Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her 'Little Miss Tranquility', and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person, in her own opinion at least. A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be ~ Louisa May Alcott

The preoccupations of seventeen-year-old girls
their looks, their clothes, their social life
do not change very much from generation to generation. But in every generation there seem to be a few who make other choices. Amy was one of the few. ~ Elisabeth Elliot

It's been ten years since Ellie Mack disappeared, a fifteen year old fro north London, disappeared on her way to the library. ~ Lisa Jewell

Sometimes they almost made me feel glad that I had a few extra years to play my depression out with therapy and other means, because I think its useful in youth- unless suicide or drug abuse are the alternatives- to have some faith in the mind to cure itself, to not rush to doctors or diagnosis's ... I sometimes worry that part of what creates depression in young people is their own, and their parents, and the whole worlds impatience with allowing the phases of life to run their course. We will very likely soon be living in a society that confuses disease with normal life if the panic and rush to judgment and labeling do not slow down a bit. Somewhere between the unbelievable tardiness that the medical profession was guilty of in administering proper treatment to me and the eagerness to with which practitioners prescribe Ritalin for 8 year old boys and Paxil for 14 year old girls, there is a sane course of action. ~ Elizabeth Wurtzel

Eena focused on the younger version of herself. Her hair was tied back with a pink ribbon. The ruffled dress she wore was soiled up to the waist in wet grains of sand. A short, square shovel was gripped tightly as the child concentrated on her digging efforts.

Curious, Eena stepped closer to the girls. Ian followed along silently. Eena could feel his eyes on her, searching her profile before turning to the sand scene. She approached her younger self and stopped to watch. At first, she smiled at the darling ponytailed child. Then the spoiled girl's mouth opened.

"Angee," the five-year-old called the younger version of Angelle. "Go get water."

The older child jumped up at the command. "Yes, Eena."

"A whole bucket full."

"Yes, Eena."

"Angee, don't step on my holes!"

The older girl quickly picked up her foot, checking to be sure there were no child-made burrows nearby. She nodded at the little five-year-old. "Okay, Eena, I'll be careful."

Instead of being grateful, the ponytailed child tilted her head and bugged out her eyes. "Hurry up, Angee!"

"Okay, okay." The young Angelle lifted her skirt to watch for surrounding holes while carting a bucket in her other hand towards the lake.

Eena frowned at the sight. She heard Ian snicker beside her.

"I was a brat," she admitted ruefully.

"You still are. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

For a ten-year-old boy and a ten-year-old girl to become good friends was not easy under any circumstances. Indeed, it might be one of the most difficult accomplishments in the world. ~ Haruki Murakami

I don't want to play into the perception that all women should look like fourteen year old boys. I don't want to add to that pressure for young girls. But in Hollywood, there is a constant pressure to look a certain way. ~ Amber Heard

You stole his truck?"
"Borrowed," Prophet corrected. "Remy thought of it when I took him home."
"Did you just blame a fifteen-year-old kid for why you stole - "
" - borrowed - "
" - a truck?"
Prophet shrugged. "Little bit. ~ S.E. Jakes

Every year, Kansas watches the world die. Civilizations of wheat grow tall and green; they grow old and golden, and then men shaped from the same earth as the crop cut those lives down. And when the grain is threshed, and the dances and festivals have come and gone, then the fields are given over to fire, and the wheat stubble ascends into the Kansas sky, and the moon swells to bursting above a blackened earth.

The fields around Henry, Kansas, had given up their gold and were charred. Some had already been tilled under, waiting for the promised life of new seed. Waiting for winter, and for spring, and another black death.

The harvest had been good. Men, women, boys and girls had found work, and Henry Days had been all hot dogs and laughter, even without Frank Willis's old brown truck in the parade.

The truck was over on the edge of town, by a lonely barn decorated with new No Trespassing signs and a hole in the ground where the Willis house had been in the spring and the early summer. Late summer had now faded into fall, and the pale blue farm house was gone. Kansas would never forget it. ~ N.D. Wilson

A Jewish man with parents alive is a fifteen-year-old boy, and will remain a fifteen-year-old boy until they die! ~ Philip Roth

There is no significant idea which cannot be explained to an intelligent twelve year old boy in fifteen minutes. ~ Leo Tolstoy

I had not learned anything about Huntley that would
have alerted me to what he was. I had no reason, as an 11-year-old girl, to be wary of him. No one said, 'This guy likes to have sex with young girls. ~ Stephen Richards

Five-year-old girls heard what they wanted to hear. In fact, lots of fifty-five-year-old girls heard what they wanted to hear. ~ Kristen Ashley

Fifteen-year-old Sam had seen twenty-year-old Ryan for the first time and had immediately run upstairs and jerked off. It had been a revolutionary and enlightening experience that essentially answered the question that yes, I was indeed very, very gay. ~ T.J. Klune

It is never a happy day when an eight-year-old girl's cheesecake lands in the dirt, and she certainly doesn't take kindly to the laughing little boy who put it there. ~ Kristi Ann Hunter

Wanita Young vs. Free Cookies Cookies will brighten up anybody's day - especially if they're being given away for free. At least, that's what two teenage girls thought when they surprised their neighbor with a plate of homemade cookies. But they were in for a surprise. The two girls, Lindsey Zellitti and Taylor Ostergaard, wanted to do something nice for their neighbors. So they went around their neighborhood, knocking on doors and leaving a small package of cookies in front of every door. When they got to 49-year-old Wanita Young's house, the sound of the girls knocking on the door apparently drove her into an anxiety attack, causing her to call the police who eventually took her to the hospital. After the girls apologized, and after they offered to pay her hospital bills, Young still decided to take them to court and sue them for $900 - and she actually won the case. ~ Jamie Frater

Some critics are emotionally desiccated, personally about as attractive as a year-old peach in a single girl's refrigerator. ~ Mel Brooks

As she drove the familiar route to the school, she considered her magnificent new age. Forty. She could still feel "forty" the way it felt when she was fifteen. Such a colorless age. Marooned in the middle of your life. Nothing would matter all that much when you were forty. You wouldn't have real feelings when you were forty, because you'd be safely cushioned by your frumpy forty-ness.
Forty-year-old woman found dead. Oh dear.
Twenty-year-old woman found dead. Tragedy! Sadness! Find that murderer! ~ Liane Moriarty

Are you going to be all right now? No more tears? I don't know how to handle crying girls. Every time my five-year-old sister turns on the waterworks, I end up buying her a Barbie. You don't need a new Barbie, do you? ~ Jessica Verday

Doctors tell me I have the body of a thirty year old. I know I have the brain of a fifteen year old. If you've got both, you can play baseball. ~ Pete Rose

A fifteen-year-old dropped her cone, bent to retrieve it, then hesitated, abandoned the melting delicacy to the pavement and the soles of future passers-by; soon she would be one of the grown-ups and no longer lick ice cream in the street. ~ Gunter Grass

We've been brainwashed into believing that it's a sin to discriminate. But discrimination doesn't mean racism; it means telling unlike things apart. Iowa grandpas and nine-year-old girls from Ohio are simply not looking to visit 'a painful chastisement upon the Western infidels. ~ Bill Maher

If anyone had bothered to notice me, they would only see a scared fifteen-year-old girl with eyes of sable ringed by kohl liner and black hair that fell to her waist. They wouldn't see someone struggling to remain sane. Only an empty space where a real girl used to live. ~ Sherry Soule

For a few seconds Maria did not move, or even breathe, apparently. Then she gave a sorrowful gulp and, like all little girls, even those who speak to fantastical wild boars and mercurial horses, she collapsed in desperate sobs, of the kind that come so easily to a twelve-year-old, and so hard to a person of forty. ~ Muriel Barbery