Few things are more satisfying than seeing your children have teenagers of their own.

To be left alone on the tightrope of youth unknowing is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom and the threat of eternal indecision. Few, if any, survive their teens. Most surrender to the vague but murderous pressure of adult conformity. It becomes a constant battle with the superior forces of maturity.

Who would ever think that so much can go on in the soul of a young girl?

We are then like some young trees whose branches grow in separate directions, giving the impression that the stem will break apart under opposite pulls.

Adolescence is just one big walking pimple.

We become adolescents when the words that adults exchange with one another become intelligible to us.

All Giggle, Blush, half Pertness and half Pout.

Adolescence is like cactus.