Ten Year Old Boy Quotes

Well, Jack, we have taken the Macedonian, and your share of the prize, if we get her in safely, may be two hundred dollars; what will you do with it?" Stephen Decatur, commanding the frigate United States, North Atlantic, near the Azores Islands, 1812.

"One hundred will go to my mother, sir, and the other I shall spend on schooling." Jack Creamer, aged ten. ~ Irvin Anthony

I am proud to have been born in Iowa. Through the eyes of a ten-year-old boy, it was a place of adventure and daily discoveries - the wonder of the growing crops, the excitements of the harvest, the journeys to the woods for nuts and hunting, the joys of snowy winters, the comfort of the family fireside, of good food and tender care. ~ Herbert Hoover

The two of them on top of the freezing slide, wordlessly holding hands. Once again they were a ten-year-old boy and girl. A lonely boy, and a lonely girl. A classroom, just after school let out, at the beginning of winter. They had neither the power nor the knowledge to know what they should offer to each other, what they should be seeking. They had never, ever, been truly loved, or truly loved someone else. They had never held anyone, never been held. They had not idea, either, where this action would take them. What they entered then was a doorless room. They couldn't get out, nor could anyone else come in. The two of them didn't know it at the time, but this was the only truly complete place in the entire world. Totally isolated, yet the one place not tainted with loneliness. ~ Haruki Murakami

As a ten-year-old boy, the Thief of Eddis could stop a grown man in his tracks with a single look. Where had that look gone? ~ Megan Whalen Turner

Well, ma'am, as I said, I found Willow lying ill down on the riverbank."
"What was she doing there?"
Rider swallowed. "Ah,well, she, ah, was kind of taking a bath."
"A bath!" The landlady looked like she was going to be sick.
They now had Bartel's full attention. A grin wrinkled the corner of this mouth.
"Oh,she was all done,of course," Rider rushed to explain. "Dressed,too," he lied. "Poor girl said she had a severe headache."
Rider was sweating bullets. He'd rather face the whole Clanton gang than his formidable landlady. She had the uncanny ability to make him feel like a ten-year-old boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And it didn't take much to figure out what her reaction would be to his "headache treatment." Since there were definitely no benefits to be won for total honesty, he reasoned that what she didn't know woulnd't hurt him. ~ Charlotte McPherren

The Herb Farm reminded Marguerite of the farms in France; it was like a farm in a child's picture book. There was a white wooden fence that penned in sheep and goats, a chicken coop where a dozen warm eggs cost a dollar, a red barn for the two bay horses, and a greenhouse. Half of the greenhouse did what greenhouses do, while the other half had been fashioned into very primitive retail space. The vegetables were sold from wooden crates, all of them grown organically, before such a process even had a name- corn, tomatoes, lettuces, seventeen kinds of herbs, squash, zucchini, carrots with the bushy tops left on, spring onions, radishes, cucumbers, peppers, strawberries for two short weeks in June, pumpkins after the fifteenth of September. There was chèvre made on the premises from the milk of the goats; there was fresh butter. And when Marguerite showed up for the first time in the summer of 1975 there was a ten-year-old boy who had been given the undignified job of cutting zinnias, snapdragons, and bachelor buttons and gathering them into attractive-looking bunches. ~ Elin Hilderbrand

I understood why films were made, and if they made a lot of money, they were successful. All of these things I knew. As a ten-year-old boy, I didn't really think a lot about finances or celebrity. I always viewed films as kind of what I imagined a summer camp to be like. ~ Henry Thomas

You survived.'
The look on his face is almost surprised. He blinks at me from somewhere deep in his mental bubble.
'Yeah,' he says. 'Yeah, I guess.'

But in that second, in his face, I see the whole world. I finally understand something crucial.
James Mycroft did die in that car crash seven years ago. Seeing what he saw, experiencing all that pain, that ten-year-old boy passed away. The person who returned was not the same. He was changed so completely, so physically and mentally transformed, it was as though a whole different individual was born. A different boy, living in a different place, with a guardian and no parents, a boy with no past and only one name...

All the blood rushes out of my cheeks as that name falls off my lips. 'Mycroft... ~ Ellie Marney

Oh, alas, alas for his debauched children, flesh of his flesh, heir to all his failings and none of his strenghts! ... was it hard to judge a ten-year-old boy in this way? Yes, of course it was, but these were not boys. They were little gods, the despots of the future: born, unfortunately, to rule. He loved them. They would betray him. They were the lights of his life. They would come for him while he slept. The little assfuckers. He was waiting for their moves. ~ Salman Rushdie

Do you have a leather jacket? One for a ten-year-old boy?" I asked the man selling leather jackets and gloves in Covent Garden, London. "Yes, I have one right here!" And the man dug out a fine leather jacket that looked styled and tailored for a young boy. "I'm buying this for my son" I said to him. "I love this jacket, it's perfect, I think I will just come back for it tomorrow, though! I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" And the man reached his arms above his head, and said with a big smile upon his face "You only have one life to live! What is the difference if you do something today, or if you do it tomorrow?" I thought about the man's words. And I bought the jacket. He was right, there is no difference, really, between doing something today and doing something tomorrow, when you only have one life to live! Afterall, tomorrow may never come! All you really have is today! ~ C. JoyBell C.

A ten-year-old boy doesn't want a hyper-dexterous giant to choke, just as a ten-year-old girl doesn't feel good when Britney Spears has a nervous breakdown on live TV. Only an adult can feel good about someone else's failure. ~ Chuck Klosterman

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

if you ain't from no barrio, then you aint born."-a ten year old boy ~ Luiz J. Rodriguez

How many years have passed since that far-off June afternoon? More than thirty. And yet, if I close my eyes, Micòl Finzi-Contini is still there, leaning over her garden wall, looking at me and talking to me. In 1929 Micòl was little more than a child, a thin, blond thirteen-year old with large, clear, magnetic eyes. And I was a boy in short trousers, very bourgeois and very vain, whom a small academic setback was sufficient to cast down into the most childish desperation. We both fixed our eyes on each other. Above her head the sky was a compact blue, a warm already summer sky without the slightest cloud. Nothing, it seemed, would be able to alter it, and nothing indeed has altered it, at least in memory. ~ Giorgio Bassani

Daniel had one more question. He hated asking it, but her answer would be exceedingly important to him. The knot in his throat had returned, but he tried to speak around it. "Do you pity me, Story?" For the second time that night, she surprised him. "No. I pity the sixteen-year-old boy. Of course I do. How could I not?" Story rose from the windowsill and placed her hands on his chest. She waited until he met her eyes to continue. "But I don't pity the man. The man took a tragedy and used it to give himself purpose. The man is magnificent. ~ Tessa Bailey

What could be worse than dead? But all around him, the evidence was clear. Only weeks before, the NYPD had shot down a fifteen-year-old black boy, a student, for next to nothing. The shooting had started the riots, pitting young black men and some black women against the police force. The news made it sound like the fault lay with the blacks of Harlem. The violent, the crazy, the monstrous black people who had the gall to demand that their children not be gunned down in the streets. ~ Yaa Gyasi

Camped somewhere deep in an impenetrable crag of the immense Powder River Country during the late autumn of 1856, more than likely in the shadow of the sacred Black Hills, one imagines the thirty-five-year-old Red Cloud stepping from his tepee to listen to the bugle of a bull elk in its seasonal rut. Around him women haul water from a crystalline stream as cottonwood smoke rises from scores of cook fires and coils toward a sky the color of brushed aluminum. The wind sighs, and a smile creases his face as he observes a pack of mounted teenagers collect wagers in preparation for the Moccasin Game, or perhaps a rough round of Shinny. His gaze follows the grace and dexterity of one boy in particular, a slender sixteen-year-old with lupine eyes. The boy is Crazy Horse, and the war leader of the Bad Faces makes a mental not to keep tabs on this one. ~ Bob Drury

I had never seen a woman's breasts before, and I doubted if any seven-year-old boy in Craighead County had. Maybe some kid had stumbled upon his mother, but I was certain no boy my age had never had this view. ~ John Grisham

He welcomes the chance to do fatherly things with the little girl, and those ten morning minutes with dear little four-year-old Ruby, with her deep soulful eyes, and the wondrous things she sees with them, and her deep soulful voice, and the precious though not entirely memorable things she says with it, and the smell of baby shampoo and breakfast cereal filling the car, that little shimmering capsule of time is like listening to cello music in the morning, or watching birds in a flutter of industry building a nest, it simply reminds you that even if God is dead, or never existed in the first place, there is, nevertheless, something tender at the center of creation, some meaning, some purpose and poetry. ~ Scott Spencer

IF THE MAN WHO CAME THROUGH THE DOOR FIRST WAS Mr. Spanos, then Tyler's father was a twenty-eight-year-old bodybuilder with a ponytail and a suspicious bulge under his left arm. That would have meant he fathered Tyler at the age of ten, which seemed to be pushing the envelope, even in Miami. But whoever this man was, he was very serious, and he looked the room over carefully, which included glaring at me and Deke, before he stuck his head back into the hall and nodded. The next man into the room looked a little bit more like you would hope a teenage girl's father might look. He was middle-aged, relatively short, and a little chubby, with thinning hair and gold-rimmed glasses. His face was sweaty and tired and his mouth hung open as if he had to gasp for breath. He staggered into the room, looked helplessly around for a moment, and then stood in front of Deborah, blinking and breathing heavily. A ~ Jeff Lindsay

They made a major mistake," he blurted out, "the dumb bastards, when they didn't start by killing you first."
"Benjamin Thomas Parish, that was the sweetest and most bizarre compliment anyone's ever given me."
I kissed him on the cheek. He kissed me on the mouth.
"You know," I whispered, "a year ago, I would have sold my soul for that."
He shook his head. "Not worth it." And, for one-ten thousandth of a second, all of it fell away, the despair and grief and anger and pain and hunger, and the old Ben Parish rose from the dead. The eyes that impaled. The smile that slayed. In another moment, he would fade, slide back into the new Ben, the one called Zombie, and I understood something I hadn't before: He was dead, the object of my schoolgirl desires, just as the schoolgirl who desired him was dead. ~ Rick Yancey

My environmentalism reared its head around the age of ten when I inexplicably become obsessed with littering. For some reason I considered it my personal responsibility to pick up litter wherever I found it and yell at anyone I saw contributing to the problem (much to the horror of my mother). I was a ten-year-old on a mission to clean up the streets! But it was years later when I became a mother myself that concern for my kids' future really ignited my passion and set me on my course. Once I started reading and educating myself, there was no turning back. ~ Laurie David

There's so much pressure on kids to perform and to be the best they can be, and particularly with boys: boys who are the gifted ones get loaded with an awful lot of expectation and self-expectation, and that's really hard for an 18 year old. ~ Lenny Abrahamson

There are various theories about why the years seem to pass faster as you get older. The most popular is also the most obvious. As you get older, each year is a smaller percentage of your life. If you are ten years old, a year is ten percent. If you are fifty years old, a year is two percent. But she read a theory that spurned that explanation. The theory states that time passes faster when we are in a set routine, when we aren't learning anything new, when we stay stuck in a life pattern. They key to making time slow down is to have new experiences. You may joke that the week you went on vacation flew by far too quickly, but if you stop and think about it, that week actually seemed to last much longer than one involving the drudgery of your day job. You are complaining about it going away so fast because you loved it, not because it felt as though time was passing faster. If you want to slow down time, this theory holds: If you want to make the days last, do something different. Travel to exotic locales. Take a class. ~ Harlan Coben

I expected differences among children in how they coped with the difficulty, but I saw something I never expected.
Confronted with the hard puzzles, one then-year-old boy pulled up his chair, rubbed his hands together, smacked his lips, and cried out, :I love a challenge!".
I never though anyone loved failure.
Not only weren't they discouraged by failure, they didn't even think they were failing. They though they were learning. ~ Carol S. Dweck

The God of Imagination lived in fairytales. And the best fairytales made you fall in love. It was while flicking through "Sleeping Beauty" that I met my first love, Ivar. He was a six-year-old bello ragazzo with blond hair and eyebrows. He had bomb-blue eyes and his two front teeth were missing.
The road to Happily Ever After, however, was paved with political barbed wire. Three things stood in my way.
1. The object of my affection didn't know he was the object of my affection.
2. The object of my affection preferred Action Man to Princess Aurora.
3. The object of my affection was a boy and I wasn't allowed to love a boy. ~ Diriye Osman

In that moment, she knew she was seeing him not just as a damaged Subject who needed her, but as a man. Naïve, young, hurt -- but a man nonetheless. And he barely realized it. He was like an abandoned boy in the body of a twenty-four year old; innocent where he should be experienced and experienced where he should be innocent. ~ Mirriam Neal

Ren exhaled heavily. "God, you're so annoying."
"So?" Tink hovered in front of the couch, his wings furiously beating the air. "I'm rubber and you're glue!"
Ren turned to face the little guy. "What?"
"Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you!"
Ren stared at him and then slowly shook his head as he turned back to me. "It's like living with a two-year-old with the mental capacity of a fifteen-year-old boy. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

So how long have you been together? Two months?'
'Five.'
'Five? Jesus, Steve, you might as well get married. I should buy a hat.'
'Don't. They give away your Spock ears.'
She laughed. 'This is the Romanian girl?'
'Croatian.'
'Right. She's a painter?'
'Photographer.'
'Right.' She studied him.
'What?' he laughed self-consciously as though he was a twelve-year-old boy who'd just been caught with his first girlfriend.
'Nothing.'
'Come on.'
'I don't know Steve,' she cut into her meat, 'you've changed. You no longer write about Victoria Beckham and you have a girlfriend. I think ... '
'You think what?'
'I don't know, I might be jumping the gun here, but I think there's a possibility you might not be gay after all.'
A chip was hurled at her head. ~ Cecelia Ahern

A Conference Board survey released in January of 2010 found that only 45 percent of workers surveyed were happy at their jobs, the lowest in 22 years of polling.2 Depression rates today are ten times higher than they were in 1960.3 Every year the age threshold of unhappiness sinks lower, not just at universities but across the nation. Fifty years ago, the mean onset age of depression was 29.5 years old. Today, it is almost exactly half that: 14.5 years old. ~ Shawn Achor

When I'm choosing things, there's a level of intelligence I want to peel off, whether it's written in terribly simple sentences, whether it's from the point of view of a dog, or a 15-year-old boy. ~ Lynne Tillman

Lizzie Barlow stood her ground. She could feel no sympathy for her daughter at the moment. They had to get on that bus to Indiana, and there was no time for the temper-tantrums of a ten-year-old to complicate their already life-threatening situation. "I'm ~ Samantha Bayarr

So many times you've taken my breath away or made it feel like my heart was trapped inside my stomach. But last night was more than any fourteen-year-old boy could handle. So I took your face in my hands and I kissed you, just like I've been dreaming of doing for over a year now. ~ Colleen Hoover

Ten-year-old Auggie Pullman, who was born with extreme facial abnormalities and was not expected to survive, goes from being home-schooled to entering fifth grade at a private middle school in Manhattan, which entails enduring the taunting and fear of his classmates as he struggles to be seen as just another student. ~ Anonymous

A moth goes into a podiatrist's office, and the podiatrist's office says, "What seems to be the problem, moth?"

The moth says "What's the problem? Where do I begin, man? I go to work for Gregory Illinivich, and all day long I work. Honestly doc, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I don't even know if Gregory Illinivich knows. He only knows that he has power over me, and that seems to bring him happiness. But I don't know, I wake up in a malaise, and I walk here and there… at night I…I sometimes wake up and I turn to some old lady in my bed that's on my arm. A lady that I once loved, doc. I don't know where to turn to. My youngest, Alexendria, she fell in the…in the cold of last year. The cold took her down, as it did many of us. And my other boy, and this is the hardest pill to swallow, doc. My other boy, Gregarro Ivinalititavitch… I no longer love him. As much as it pains me to say, when I look in his eyes, all I see is the same cowardice that I… that I catch when I take a glimpse of my own face in the mirror. If only I wasn't such a coward, then perhaps…perhaps I could bring myself to reach over to that cocked and loaded gun that lays on the bedside behind me and end this hellish facade once and for all…Doc, sometimes I feel like a spider, even though I'm a moth, just barely hanging on to my web with an everlasting fire underneath me. I'm not feeling good. And so the doctor says, "Moth, man, you're troubled. But you should be seeing a psychiatrist. Why on ~ Norm Macdonald

At Sea Oak there's no sea and no oak, just a hundred subsidized apartments and a rear view of FedEx. Min and Jade are feeding their babies while watching How My Child Died Violently. Min's my sister. Jade's our cousin. How My Child Died Violently is hosted by Matt Merton, a six-foot-five blond who's always giving the parents shoulder rubs and telling them they've been sainted by pain. Today's show features a ten-year-old who killed a five-year-old for refusing to join his gang. The ten-year-old strangled the five-year-old with a jump rope, filled his mouth with baseball cards, then locked himself in the bathroom and wouldn't come out until his parents agreed to take him to FunTimeZone, where he confessed, then dove screaming into a mesh cage full of plastic balls. The audience is shrieking threats at the parents of the killer while the parents of the victim urge restraint and forgiveness to such an extent that finally the audience starts shrieking threats at them too. Then it's a commercial. ~ George Saunders

For the first time in my life, I became actively interested in a book. Me the sports fanatic, me the game freak, me the only ten-year-old in Illinois with a hate on for the alphabet wanted to know what happened next. ~ William Goldman

She was dry, dry inside like a ten-thousand-year-old tomb, with the last of her life barely dampening the dirt underneath. ~ Kat Rosenfield

He's very knowledgeable. That's the one advantage that I see in Kobe Bryant's career compared to Michael Jordan. Ten years into Kobe Bryant's career, we're seeing a very polished 27-year-old player who's probably got another seven or eight great years ahead of him. ~ Scottie Pippen

But he was long-legged for a ten-year-old, ~ Katherine Paterson

Principal Brill, those costumes were made by my mother. My mother, who has stage four small-cell lung cancer. My mother, who will never watch her little boy celebrate another Halloween again. My mother, who will more than likely experience a year of 'lasts'. Last Christmas. Last birthday. Last Easter. And if God is willing, her last Mother's Day. My mother, who when asked by her nine-year-old son if he could be her cancer for Halloween, had no choice but to make him the best cancerous tumor-riden lung costume she could. So if you think it's so offensive, I suggest you drive them home yourself and tell my mother to her face. Do you need my address? ~ Colleen Hoover

I want to make movies just like "King Kong." You know, dinosaurs, big gorillas - it's everything that a nine year-old boy would fall in love with. ~ Peter Jackson

A boy was staring at me.
I was quite sure I'd never seen him befroe. Long and leanly muscular, he dwarfed and the molded plastic elementary school chair he was sitting in. Mahogany hair, straight and short. He looked my age, maybe a year older, and he sat with his tailbone against the edge of the chair, his posture aggresively poor, one hand half in a pocket of dark jeans.
I looked away, suddenly conscious of my myriad insufficiencies. I was wearing old jeans, which had once been tight but now sagged in weird places, and a yellow T-shirt advertising a band I didn't even like anymore. Also my hair: I had this pageboy haircut, and I hadn't even bothered to, like, brush it. Furthermore, I had ridiculously fat chipmunked cheeks, a side effect of treatment. I looked like a normally proportioned person with a balloon for a head. This was not even to mention the canckle situation. And yet-I cut a glance to him, and his eyes were still on me. ~ John Green

didn't realize I was crying until the tears hit my chin and plummeted to my shirt. Fire burned my nose. Five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-and-fourteen-year-old Vanessa all came back to me with the same feeling that had been so strong in those years: hurt. The Vanessa who was fifteen and older had felt a different emotion for so long: anger. Anger at my mom's selfishness. Anger at her for not being able to clean her act up until years after we'd been taken away from her. Anger for being let down for so long, time and time again. ~ Mariana Zapata

Having a ten-year-old daughter can be like living with a fairy. Something magical. ~ Cody McFadyen

Pan took the joke good-naturedly, probably deciding it wasn't a good idea to argue with a fifteen-year-old who had just pulled two people up ten feet. ~ Grace Anthony

Since Sienna was in an unusually cooperative mood, the session went well. He was returning from it midmorning - after a short detour - when a small naked body barreled into him in one of the main corridors. Steadying the boy with Tk, he looked down. The child lifted a finger to his lips. "Shh. I'm hiding." With that, he went behind Judd and scrambled into a small alcove. "Quickly!
Not sure why he obeyed the order, Judd backed up to stand in front of the alcove, arms crossed.

A flustered Lara came running around the corner a few seconds later. "Have you seen Ben? Four-year-old. Naked as a jaybird?"

"How tall is he?" Judd asked in his most overbearing Psy manner.

Lara stared. "He's four. How tall do you think he is? Have you seen him or not?"

"Let me think...did you say he was naked?"

"He was about to be bathed. Slippery little monkey."

A giggle from behind Judd.

Lara's eyes widened and then her lips twitched. "So you haven't seen him?"

"Without a proper description, I can't be sure."

The healer was obviously trying not to laugh. "You shouldn't encourage him - he's incorrigible as it is."

Judd felt childish hands on his left calf and then Ben poked his head out. "I'm incorwigeable, did ya hear?"

Judd nodded. "I do believe you've been found. Why don't you go have your bath?"

"Come on, munchkin." Lara held out a hand.

Surprisingly st ~ Nalini Singh

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

I didn't know what to do. How do you tell an eight-year-old boy his mother's going to die? I tried. In my own stumbling way I tried to prepare Jim for it. Nowadays, he lives in a world we don't understand too well, the actor's world. We don't see too much of him. But he's a good boy, my Jim. A good boy, and I'm very proud of him. Not easy to understand, no sir. He's not easy to understand. But he's all man, and he'll make his mark. Mind you, my boy will make his mark. ~ James Dean

Sometimes, you'll watch the news and you'll see two-year-old boys in South Africa, wearing 'Spider-Man' t-shirts. It's such a global phenomenon. ~ James Vanderbilt

She looks me straight in the face. "I could never be with someone like you – you have the maturity of a twelve-year-old boy."
I raise my glass. "And you have the chest of one."
I expect her to come back with a clever, biting retort, but she just gestures to me with an open palm. "I rest my case."
Ironically, my first instinct is to stick my tongue out at her. But I won't give her the satisfaction. ~ Emma Chase

Kenny was actually here at Melwood as a 15-year-old schoolboy. He came on trial and he went home afterwards. It was only later that Bill Shankly realised that Dalglish was here as a boy and he went mad! He said 'how did we miss him?' Kenny just had the football brain. He was born with it and you can't give that to people. He had that natural born talent. ~ Ian St. John

I bought Justin Bieber's house ... He had, like, this nook under the stairs which I didn't need, so I covered it up. When I ran into him, he was like 'What did you do with the nook? I used to go in there and play video games.' When I told him it was gone, he was so upset. I didn't think this 20-year-old boy would even care! ~ Khloe Kardashian

I always think that I'm still this 13-year old boy that doesn't really know how to be an adult, pretending to live my life, taking notes for when I'll really have to do it. ~ Richard Linklater

Who are you?" I demanded when I was certain he couldn't escape my grip.
"I'm a twenty-four-year-old Taurus who enjoys long walks on the beach." Even though I couldn't see his face, I could feel his arrogant grin.
"You have ten seconds to explain yourself," I ordered. "Or I'm really going to hurt you."
"Oh, come on! Can't we get back to the kissing? You can't tease a guy like that. ~ Ada Adams

Here I am looking at my lovely ten-year-old daughter, Maggie, in her white dress, singing Protestant hymns with the choir at the Plymouth Church of the Brethren when I should be at Mass praying for the repose of the soul of my mother, Angela McCourt, mother of seven, believer, sinner, though when I contemplate her seventy-three years on this earth I can't believe the Lord God Almighty on His throne would even dream of consigning her to the flames. A God like that wouldn't deserve the time of day. ~ Frank McCourt

Hardly had the light been extinguished, when a peculiar trembling began
to affect the netting under which the three children lay.

It consisted of a multitude of dull scratches which produced a metallic
sound, as if claws and teeth were gnawing at the copper wire. This was
accompanied by all sorts of little piercing cries.

The little five-year-old boy, on hearing this hubbub overhead, and
chilled with terror, jogged his brother's elbow; but the elder brother
had already shut his peepers, as Gavroche had ordered. Then the little
one, who could no longer control his terror, questioned Gavroche, but in
a very low tone, and with bated breath:--

"Sir?"

"Hey?" said Gavroche, who had just closed his eyes.

"What is that?"

"It's the rats," replied Gavroche.

And he laid his head down on the mat again.

The rats, in fact, who swarmed by thousands in the carcass of the
elephant, and who were the living black spots which we have already
mentioned, had been held in awe by the flame of the candle, so long as
it had been lighted; but as soon as the cavern, which was the same
as their city, had returned to darkness, scenting what the good
story-teller Perrault calls "fresh meat," they had hurled themselves in
throngs on Gavroche's tent, had climbed to the top of it, and had begun
to bite the meshes as though seeking to pierce this new-fang ~ Victor Hugo

Without knowing I was going to, I started to laugh, a crazy laugh like Ian's the night before, and at first he looked worried, but then he started too. Even with the wind whipping past the station, even with Ian hugging his backpack to his chest for warmth, we were laughing, and not a laughter of release or a laughter that was really sadness in disguise. It was the laugh of the absurd. Your grandmother is a seventeen-year-old boy? That creepy Russian man just paid for your ticket? Ferret-Glo? ~ Rebecca Makkai

, I have experienced firsthand how easy it is for a
ten year old to obtain marijuana for next to nothing, this trend
seems to have been taken to a new dimension with the abuse of
pharmaceutical products especially prescription medicines in
schools and communities, increasing the number of mentally
and emotionally challenged men and women on our streets and
diverting young people from classrooms and lecture halls to prisons
and drug rehabilitation centers. ~ Oche Otorkpa

Tomo did not join them. Kami saw that he had taken one of his violent fancies to Ash, the way he had taken to lemonade, Mr. Stearn's bulldog, and his favorite toy race car that had burned with everything else in their house. He walked happily alongside Ash, holding on to his hand, and clearly wished for nothing more.

Ash seemed alarmed to have been so firmly taken possession of by an eight-year-old. He and Tomo fell back a little, until they were walking with Jared and Kami.

"I am so sad about my underwear," Kami announced, and Ash looked as if he regretted all of his life decisions.

"Not in front of the little boy!" he said reproachfully. "Anyway, you were saying that you would borrow clothes from Holly and Angela."

"I'm the third tallest in my class," Tomo informed him, with the air of one out to impress. "And I know all about underwear."

"You heard the man," said Kami. "Besides which, no. I cannot possibly borrow underclothes from Holly and Angela. Bras especially."

"I know," said Jared.

"Oh, you do, do you?" Kami inquired. "And how do you know, may I ask?"

There was a slight flush along the lines of Jared's cheekbones. "Observation."

It was probably sad that this cheered Kami up, but Jared usually seemed so wary about her body, the physical fact of it, that the simple knowledge that he had been looking did please her. She leaned back infinitesimally closer into the warm line ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

It is an odd fact of evolution that we are the only species on Earth capable of creating science and philosophy. There easily could have been another species with some scientific talent, say that of the average human ten-year-old, but not as much as adult humans have; or one that is better than us at physics but worse at biology; or one that is better than us at everything. If there were such creatures all around us, I think we would be more willing to concede that human scientific intelligence might be limited in certain respects. ~ Colin McGinn