Trollope's writing of young men shows great understanding for their foolishness, their confidence, and their insecurities.
To all mothers their sons are ever young.
I am not sure that those whose boyhoods are so protracted have the worst of it ... Fruit that grows ripe the quickest is not the sweetest; nor when housed and garnered will it keep the longest.
Young men are pretty much the same everywhere, I guess. They never have their wits about them. They never mean what they say, because they don't understand the use of words. They are generally half impudent and half timid ... Indeed there is no such thing as a young man, for a man is not really a man till he is middle-aged.
Solitude is surely for the young, who have time before them ... and who can, therefore, take delight in thinking.
A man very terrible in his vulgarity, loud, rampant, conspicuous with villainous jewellery, and odious with the worst abominations of perfumery.