If a man lives to any considerable age, it can not be denied that he laments his imprudences, but I notice he often laments his youth a deal more bitterly and with a more genuine intonation.
We do not die wholly at our deaths: we have mouldered away gradually long before. Faculty after faculty, interest after interest, attachment after attachment disappear: we are torn from ourselves while living.
Here's a song was never sung: Growing old is dying young.
For inside all the weakness of old age, the spirit, God knows, is as mercurial as it ever was.
Growing old is, of all things we experience, that which takes the most courage, and at a time when we have the least resources, especially with which to meet frustration.
It is, I assume, quite easy to wither into old age, and hard to grow into it.
...there is no old age of the soul.
We think in youth that our bodies are identical to ourselves and have the same interests, but discover later in life that they are heartless companions who have been accidentally yoked with us, and who are as likely as not, in our extreme sickness or old age, to treat us with less mercy than we would have received at the hands of the worst bandits.
I find in old age that it's possible to revisit the past, the one requirement being that you come as you are.
No one's so old that he mayn't with decency hope for one more day.
Death laughs when old women frolic.
Old men and comets have been reverenced for the same reason: their long beards, and pretences to foretell events.
Age doth not rectify, but incurvate our natures, turning bad dispositions into worser habits.
Too chaste an adolescence makes for a dissolute old age. It is doubtless easier to give up something one has known than something one imagines.
Another secret we carry is that though drab outside - wreckage to the eye, mirrors a mortification - inside we flame with a wild life that is almost incommunicable.
Old age is somewhat like dieting. Every day there is less of us to be observed.
What fortune teller would ever have had the nerve to predict that the best years of my life would turn out to be my old age?
The body, after all, older and wiser than soul, being first created, and, like a good horse, if given its way would go home by the best path and at the right pace.
The search of the Holy Grail or the voyage towards a new continent never enlisted so much energy and so much faith as does this pursuit of youth by old age. It is a race not of the fleet but of the most credulous.
Then there's that 'You're only as old as you feel' business, which is true to a point, but you can't be Shirley Temple on the Good Ship Lollipop forever. Sooner or later, dammit, you're old.
We look on those approaching the banks of a river all must cross, with ten times the interest they excited when dancing in the meadow.
Getting old in America ... best to do it somewhere else.
... no problem except old age ever vanquished my mother.
it is a mistake to talk of the twilight of age, or the blurred sight of old people. The long day grows clearer at its close, and the petty fogs of prejudice which rose between us and our fellows in youth melt away as the sun goes down. At last we see God's creatures as they are.
Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old age away; . . . . To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint, Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint.
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