It was so long since I'd seen masses of young men that I'd forgotten how much pleasanter men of between twenty and thirty were to be around with than older men. It isnt so true of women. When I was in my twenties I thought the grown adults I ran into were a disaster and now I know I was right.
John Dos Passos (1896–1970), U.S. novelist, poet, playwright, painter. Letter, May 18, 1945, to critic Edmund Wilson. The Fourteenth Chronicle: Letters and Diaries of John Dos Passos, ed. Townsend Ludington (1973).
Written in Provincetown, Massachusetts after his return from the Pacific theater during World War Two.