Youth (n.) is the world's hope only if it does not stay as it is but takes on the bitter labour of the spirit.
Youth (n.) is the power woman holds really counts — turning the earnest wisdom of mature age, which cares only for the universal, into an object of derision.
Youth (n.) tosses about in abstractions; the man of experience does not get caught in the abstract either-or but holds onto the concrete.
Youth (n.) is harder to sculpt than age: its forms flow like a sea unruffled by wind, always moving yet calm, and every hidden bone must still be indicated.
Youth (n.) has good memory because it has not yet reached reflection: it levels its inner life to pure space where the fact may reign with no subjective inwardness to oppose it.
Youth (n.) believes the world is in an utterly sorry state and something quite different must be made of it; maturity recognises that the world's final purpose is as much accomplished as eternally accomplishing itself.