growing up [Theme] Page 4

... Mr. Roland Britt, thirty-seven years old (unknown age, at the crossroads between yesterday and tomorrow).

The older you are, the stronger the wind becomes - and it is always counter.

How long will you treat me like a child, old man?
- You'll ask this question again when your hands are the size of your torso. In the meantime, climb back into your cozy shell.

They become adults by giving up their desires.

It's time to grow up. We are no longer children. There are no good or bad, you know. There are just people who live their own lives.

I was born a boy; I've never in my life been as confident as an adult should.

Every summer, every grief and daily work is marked by life on the face of a person. On a naked woman's face, these signs are easy to read. The man's beard and mustache hide the letter of life. Until white hair grows in the beard, like a fox on the back, you only know by habits, and not by eye, whether you met a guy or a mature husband.

I find no solace when I get older year after year. It seemed that further my subsequent pointers in life would be eternal doubts, and I was their familiar guide. I lived with a calm conscience until it was interrupted by a hidden stranger inside.

We will never be one again.

I learned from my own bitter experience that parents do not have answers to many questions. We all really want these answers. And for the first twenty years of our life, we even believe that it is (however, it all depends on the specific parents and on how successfully they cover their asses). But in the end you realize that your parents are mere mortals, just as you once realized that Santa and the Easter bunny do not exist.

Coffee is a ritual, a sign of adulthood. Only a child will give it up.

Smack-smack, Foxtrot Whiskey.

A collection of small misfortunes is what makes a person an adult!

Sorry board. Now I have to fix a real car.