In my case, adulthood itself was not an advance, although it was a useful waymark.

The distinction between children and adults, while probably useful for some purposes, is at bottom a specious one, I feel. There are only individual egos, crazy for love.

Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.

We have not passed that subtle line between childhood and adulthood until we move from the passive voice to the active voice -- that is, until we have stopped saying "It got lost," and say, "I lost it."

A boy becomes an adult three years before his parents think he does, and about two years after he thinks he does.

I believe a man is born first unto himself --for the happy developing of himself, while the world is a nursery, and the pretty things are to be snatched for, and pleasant things tasted; some people seem to exist thus right to the end. But most are born again on entering manhood; then they are born to humanity, to a consciousness of all the laughing, and the never-ceasing murmur of pain and sorrow that comes from the terrible multitudes of brothers.

A child becomes an adult when he realizes that he has a right not only to be right but also to be wrong.