Puberty In Boys Quotes

after I hit puberty, it was like a switch inside me flipped, and instead of becoming a testosterone-driven sex monster like most of the guys in my school, I failed to find anyone I wanted in my life in that way. ~ Krystal Sutherland

Except that today, oblivious to everyone, there is a hair standing tall inside his shorts: a single hair: long, black and shining. Sprouting out of nowhere, it stands rebelliously erect on his tiny barren orb, not thwarted by the force of the cloth of his underwear, announcing its eventual arrival with élan. ~ Mohit Parikh

I have a lot of friends who are in love the '90s. Girls, boys. '90s music? That's Tupac. That's Biggie. That's TLC. That's Aaliyah. I still listen to Aaliyah. I still listen to Tupac and Biggie. There's people who are really heavy on that culture. ~ Shameik Moore

I was never pretty enough to be the pretty girl and I was never quirky enough to be the quirky girl. Boys didn't look at me in high school and think I was the pretty girl. ~ Lea Michele

Words got in the way. The things we felt the hardest
like what it was like to have a boy touch you as if you were made of light, or what it meant to be the only person in the room who wasn't noticed
weren't sentences; they were knots in the wood of our bodies, places where our blood flowed backward. If you asked me, not that anyone ever did, the only words worth saying were I'm sorry. ~ Jodi Picoult

I wonder if all mothers feel like this the moment they realize their daughters are growing up- as if it is impossible to believe that the laundry I once folded for her was doll-sized; as if I can still see her dancing in lazy pirouettes along the lip of the sandbox. Wasn't it yesterday that her hand was only as big as the sand dollar she found on the beach? That same hand, the one that's holding a boy's; wasn't it just holding mine, tugging so that I might stop and see the spiderweb, the milkweed pod, any of a thousand moments she wanted me to freeze? Time is an optical illusion- never quite as solid or strong as we think it is. You would assume that, given everything, I saw this coming. But watching Kate watch this boy, I see I have a thousand things to learn. ~ Jodi Picoult

I come from that earlier time in America when palm pilot was a nickname you recieved upon entering puberty! I was more than a palm pilot I was the palm Chuck Jager. Tom Wolfe wrote a book about me called The Right Hand Stuff. I was the only guy in my class hip enough to move to the European grip. ~ Dennis Miller

He got into the tub and ran a little cold water. Then he lowered his thin, hairy body into the just-right warmth and stared at the interstices between the tiles. Sadness--he had experienced that emotion ten thousand times. As exhalation is to inhalation, he thought of it as the return from each thrust of happiness.

Lazily soaping himself, he gave examples.

When he was five and Irwin eight, their father had breezed into town with a snowstorm and come to see them where they lived with their grandparents in the small Connecticut city. Their father had been a vagabond salesman and was considered a bum by people who should know. But he had come into the closed, heated house with all the gimcrack and untouchable junk behind glass and he had smelled of cold air and had had snow in his curly black hair. He had raved about the world he lived in, while the old people, his father and mother, had clucked sadly in the shadows. And then he had wakened the boys in the night and forced them out into the yard to worship the swirling wet flakes, to dance around with their hands joined, shrieking at the snow-laden branches. Later, they had gone in to sleep with hearts slowly returning to bearable beatings. Great flowering things had opened and closed in Norman's head, and the resonance of the wild man's voice had squeezed a sweet, tart juice through his heart. But then he had wakened to a gray day with his father gone and the world walking gingerly over the somber crust of ~ Edward Lewis Wallant

you said,
"your bones belong in museums"
i said,
"when you kiss me,
fireworks electrocute my spine"
my mother is dying and doesn't play piano anymore,
i tell my mailman about how he should try pecan pie,
when at the supermarket, i always forget about eggs,

i've started collecting paintings,
i go to little art shows all around New York City
and introduce myself as "Rose"
when strange boys stare at my lips, i kiss
them,
i chew poetry and forget to leave tips,
i order wine and leave flowers at graveyards
that don't have any,
when my father calls, i do not answer

everything you say reminds me of brown tangerines,
i want to spill this poem inside of you

i work as a stewardess and the first thing they
teach you is how to respond when someone asks
you to take off your underwear

i wish i could say "sure thing fella, let me wrap it
around your throat until you turn purple"

but instead it's "if there's anything else, please let me
know"

and so when you called, the only thing i could say was
if there's anything else,
please let me
know ~ Irynka

I don't believe that the rough and tumble nature of children, especially boys is inherently wrong. We see in nature, bear cubs, deer, goats, puppies, especially males, play rough with each other. We're not animals, so we do try to civilize things a bit, but that rough and tumble play creates an environment where children are strengthened, and they learn that their bodies endure pain a certain way. They also learn empathy, when they see that a twisted arm hurts, they are less likely to twist someone's arm. This unstructured type of play isn't suited for classrooms, where six years olds are expected to sit at a desk and work for more than eight hours a day, and so it is discouraged. Children do not have the opportunity to properly express those natural tendencies to compete, to wrestle, or to express the emotions behind those desires. ~ Josh Hatcher

I knew that Weird Girl was going to be kind of amazing. The secret truth of Weird Girl is that I put her in there originally because I needed some way to set the boys' names. ~ John August

It seemed to me that Q. was talking about the nature of the midnight disease, which started as a simple feeling of disconnection from other people, an inability to "fit in" by no means unique to writers, a sense of envy and of unbridgeable distance like that felt by someone tossing on a restless pillow in a world full of sleepers. Very quickly, though, what happened with the midnight disease was that you began actually to crave this feeling of apartness, to cultivate and even flourish within it. You pushed yourself farther and farther and farther apart until one black day you woke to discover that you yourself had become the chief object of your own hostile gaze. ~ Michael Chabon

Another way fathers impact sons is that sons, once their voices have changed in puberty, invariably answer the telephone with the same locutions and intonations as their fathers. This holds true regardless of whether the fathers are still alive. ~ David Foster Wallace

Now I stand before houses set
on our secret trail, the haunt of arrowheads
and lost Indians the color of small plums,
rooms in which the new boys play, tamed
by computers and a summer waste of games,
where once, in these woods, we tasted wild fruit. ~ Thomas Dukes

Cam starts laughing, "Oh, I love it when she reads." He turns to Lucy who's face is starting to contort and turn to a bright shade of red, "She reads these smutty books, like full on dirty shit, full of sex and like ... bdsm shit."
"I'm not joking boys, they're like full on pornographic. Talking about silky shafts and veiny dicks and shit," Logan is now on the ground holding his side from the pain of laughing too hard.
"Sometimes she'll be reading, then all of sudden she'll put her book down and look at me like she wants to eat me, literally eat me!" he yells, laughing harder, still swatting away her hands that are trying to shut him up, "I mean I don't mind it, not at all. It's hot as fuck. And she wants to try everything she reads in these books. Like ... everything. She learns everything from these books ... so I don't give a shit when, of how much she reads, I get rewards. ~ Jay McLean

Which story are you going to tell us tonight, Mother?" Tootless asked.
"One that is very close to my heart," Red said. "It's called 'Beautiful and Brilliant Little Blue Riding Hood'."
Just hearing the title made the Lost Boys excitedly clap.
"Is it a good story, Mum? Slightly asked.
"It's the best story you'll ever hear," Red said.
"Does Little Blue die in the end like Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Rapunzel?" Curly asked. "I just want to know before I get attached."
"Those were such sad stories," Nibs said, and shook his head. "I can't believe poor Cinderella slipped while running down the stairs at midnight, or that Snow White choked on the poisoned apple, or when Sleeping Beauty awoke, she discovered the spindle had given her a staph infection."
"Poor, poor princesses," the Lost twins sniffled.
"Well, these stories are supposed to teach us valuable lessons," Red said. "Never run down stairs, always chew your food, and see a doctor if your skin is punctured by rusty metal."
"Is there a lesson in the story of 'Beautiful and Brilliant Little Blue Riding Hood'?" Slightly asked.
"You'll have to wait to find out," she teased. ~ Chris Colfer

Boys seem to think that girls hold the keys to all happiness, because the female is supposed to have the right of consent and/or dissent. I've heard older men reflect on their youth, and an edge of hostile envy drags across their voices as they conjure up the girls who whetted but didn't satisfy their sexual appetites. It's interesting that they didn't realize in those yearning days past, nor even in the present days of understanding, that if the female had the right to decide, she suffered from her inability to instigate. That is, she could only say yes or no if she was asked. She ~ Maya Angelou

After a hasty gulp, I lowered the bottle and grinned. "How much are you betting it's that and the melons they put in the fridge yesterday on the menu for tonight?"
Luke grinned but said nothing.
I shook my head. "You're grinning because I said "melons", aren't you?"
His smile widened. I rolled my eyes. Boys, they never grew up. ~ Violet Cross

My boy! Smoking is one of the greatest and cheapest enjoyments in life, and if you decide in advance not to smoke, i can only feel sorry for you. ~ Sigmund Freud

There are always in life countless tendencies for good and for evil, and each succeeding generation sees some of these tendencies strengthened and some weakened; nor is it by any means always, alas! that the tendencies for evil are weakened and those for good strengthened. But during the last few decades there certainly have been some notable changes for good in boy life. The great growth in the love of athletic sports, for instance, while fraught with danger if it becomes one-sided and unhealthy, has beyond all question had an excellent effect in increased manliness. ~ Theodore Roosevelt

I think that it gave me a really strong feeling of my life force and a confidence in myself. I felt like I was a man. Before that point for some reason, I always felt I was a boy (laughter). In fact, they called me the baby on the ship 'cause I was the youngest guy on the ship. But I always felt that way. ~ Haskell Wexler

At the other end of the room the three old men discussed infirmities; exchanging symptoms in undertones as boys might speak of lust. ~ Shirley Hazzard

Never mind that to me, the face of Afghanistan is that of a boy with a thin-boned frame, a shaved head, and low-set ears, a boy with a Chinese doll face perpetually lit by a harelipped smile. Never mind any of those things. Because history isn't easy to overcome. Neither is religion. In the end, I was a Pashtun and he was a Hazara, I was Sunni and he was Shi'a, and nothing was ever going to change that. Nothing. ~ Khaled Hosseini

Still writing tales?" he said. I told him yes and he nodded once, returning his attention to the snake. Very few of the boys I grew up with had finished high school, but they accepted that I was a writer. I was merely doing what other men did - following in my father's footsteps. Sonny was a plumber. The son of a local drunk was the town drunk in two towns. Sons of soldiers joined the army. That I had become a writer was perfectly normal. ~ Chris Offutt

But how can you be Peter Pan? You? The Boy Who Never Grew Up? That's not you. You have egg on your collar. You can't fly. You're not Alice. Alice was a blond little girl, I know it. You're lying to me.' And then they remember. What growing up really is: when they learned that boys can't fly and mermaids don't exist and White Rabbits don't talk and all boys grow old, even Peter Pan, as you've grown old. They've been deceived. As if you've somehow been lying to them. So following hard on the smile of remembrance is the pain in the eyes, which you've caused, everytime you meet someone. ~ John Logan

I met the Colonel when Elvis was recording some song I'd written for one of his movies. Elvis was just having fun with the gang and all the Memphis boys and Colonel Parker was sitting over here in like a theater seat. ~ Mac Davis

The truth is boys can fall deeper in love than girls, they're a lot bigger and heavier and they can fall much further and harder and when they hit the ground of reality there's just this terrible splosh that some other woman is going to have to come long and try to put back into the bottle. ~ Niall Williams

When high school girls like us freak out, people are always able to overpower us before we do something stupid, like hijacking a bus or running around with a knife. Which is why girls arm themselves beforehand so they don't get caught up in something like that. Boys probably aren't so good at protecting themselves. ~ Natsuo Kirino

The boys in the hood are always hard. ~ Eazy-E

Since you haven't got a name," he said. "I guess you can pick one for yourself. Would you like to pick one for me to write down?"
She stopped rocking and looked at him. "I can do that? It's legal and everything?"
He smiled. "It's a free country again," he said. "At least in theory."
She nodded. "And when I pick a name it can be any name I want?"
He nodded.
"What's your name?"
"Victor," he said. "Vic, for short."
"Okay," she said, leaning forward and taking the pad from under his large thing hands. "How do you spell that?"
He spelled it and she wrote it down. Her handwriting was perfectly small and legible. "Can I be Victor, too?" she said, looking up from the pad.
He smirked. "It's a boy's name," he said. "You're a girl. You have to add an i and an a to the end if you want to make it a girl's name."
She looked down at the name she had written and added the letters i and a to the end. "Victoria," she said, passing the notepad back to the cop.
"Hello, Victoria," he said, smiling, taking the pad and pen back and presenting his hand for a shake. "It's nice to meet you, officially. ~ Benjamin R. Smith

When I was a boy, we had forty five statues of saints in my house. Ever have ninety eyes looking at you every time you have to go to the bathroom? ~ Pat Cooper

I knew Chaz was a good guy, if misguided and gullible. He'd swallowed Buck's side of what happened between us, had argued with Erin that maybe I was drunk that night and didn't remember everything clearly. He was probably one of those boys to whom rapists were ugly men who jumped out of bushes, assaulting random girls. Rapists weren't your nice-guy coworker, or your frat brother, or your best friend. Maybe it never occurred to him that his best friend was capable of ripping a girl's self-confidence away in the span of five minutes. ~ Tammara Webber

Midland City had a goddess of discord all its own. This was a goddess who could not dance, would not dance, and hated everybody at the high school. She would like to claw away her face, she told us, so that people would stop seeing things in it that had nothing to do with what she was like inside. She was ready to die at any time, she said, because what men and boys thought about her and tried to do to her made her so ashamed. One of the first things she was going to do when she got to heaven, she said, was to ask somebody what was written on her face and why had it been put there. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

She could smell the boy spice beneath the thrift-store aroma of his jacket, and the rubbing and the smell began to work to soften her
like butter before you add sugar, in the first steps of making something sweet. It was her first experience of how bodies could meld together, how breath could slip naturally into rhythm. It was hypnotic. Heady. And she wanted more. ~ Laini Taylor

For whatever reason, I didn't succumb to the stereotype that science wasn't for girls. I got encouragement from my parents. I never ran into a teacher or a counselor who told me that science was for boys. A lot of my friends did. ~ Sally Ride

I'm not an aspiring young actor; I'm a storyteller who made it late in life, and I'm therefore an inspiration to everyone who thinks that, at 23, if you're not in the Backstreet Boys, then you're never gonna make it. ~ Paul Hogan

Bloody hell," Charlie gasped. "That's twenty-five quid each, Isaac."

"Language."

"Shit." Isaac blew out a breath. "A hundred quid, Mum."

"Isaac, language."

"Hey no," Dex said, holding up a hand. "I mean a hundred each. I could use these as stencils. At this size I could pretty much charge double that, if not more, each time they're used. Probably twice again if they have them in colour."

The three of us looked at Dex in awe. He wanted to buy my talented boy's drawings for a hundred pounds each.

"Well?" I prompted.

"Fuck yeah."

"Language," I said, barely above a whisper, still in a state of shock.

"It's a deal." Dex grinned. "Speaking of which, I said I'd show you my designs, but I gotta be honest, I'm not sure they're as good as these."

"Oh fuck," I muttered.

"Language," Charlie cried.

As Dex stripped off his shirt, I genuinely thought I heard a choir of angels sing and saw a shaft of light shine through the darkness outside and into my lounge.

There was only one word for what I was looking at – wondrous. He could honestly market himself as a tourist attraction and sell tickets. ~ Nikki Ashton

Here I am, an old man in a dry month,
Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. ~ T. S. Eliot

Our story ends happily ever after. It has to. We escape Battle Creek, pile into the car, and burn a strip of rubber down the highway. Fly away west, to the promised land. Our rooms will be lit by lava lamps and Christmas lights. Our lives will glow. Consciousness will rise and minds will expand, and beautiful boys in flannel shirts will make snow angels on our floor and write love letters on our ceiling with black polish and red lipstick. We will be their muses, and they will strum their guitars beneath our window, calling to us with a siren song. Come down come away with me. We will lean out of our tower, our hair swinging like Rapunzel's, and laugh, because nothing will carry us away from each other. ~ Robin Wasserman

We kissed and pressed up against each other, and I said to her "Ya know, my first kiss I ever had with anyone, it was with a boy, in the back of a school bus at night." Lotty stopped kissing me for a second.
"That's disgusting," she said.
"What? It's not like we had much choice in where we did it. Kinda had to sneak around in those days. Get it in when and where we could."
"No, I mean the fact that your first kiss was with a boy."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Boys are gross. ~ Dave Matthes

I remember being a teenager and being ashamed of my musical tastes, at least some of them. My Brian Wilson and Beach Boys fandom, which is as important to me as anything else, was almost like a porn stash. Hide that shit, someone's coming! You couldn't look like me and be black in West Philadelphia and love the Beach Boys the way I did. ~ Ahmir Questlove Thompson

Sorry men, but I think boys are a little more oblivious in high school. Girls are just more sensitive. We're so concerned about how we look and how we're doing. ~ Sigourney Weaver