Quotes About Aging

We get older, and we get more wrinkles, but fundamentally, we stay the same... You have the same fears and doubts and concerns and dreams and passions and all those kinds of things, so I feel like you don't change as much as you think you do.

My face hasn't matured as I've grown up, and neither has my sense of humour. In the mirror, I see an older version of myself as a child, although I do have more wrinkles and freckles.

The latest wrinkle is on wrinkles. There is a widespread belief that women can't grow old in television news.

My mother, at sixty, is one of those classic beauties: all neck and cheekbones, sharp lines that hide her wrinkles from a distance. She still gets whistles from construction workers from three stories up.

The only problem is, that the musicians, the guys, their careers can go from the time they're 18 'till they're 50 years old and when they get wrinkles, they're 'character lines.' But when girls get 'em, they're wrinkles!

It is not like adding wrinkles to look older; it is using the wrinkles I already have to say something else. What is disturbing is not seeing more lines on my face but seeing that the range of possibilities of what I can do is much more limited.

I am a follower of hyaluronic acid - always in small doses, of course - to fill wrinkles and fine lines.

I remember seeing some little wrinkles in my early 30s and thinking they were interesting. But you know the horror of it is that the screen image has to be perfect.

I like the idea of growing old gracefully and full of wrinkles... like Audrey Hepburn.

My skin may have wrinkles but it's because I'm smiling so much. That might sound like some terrible American greetings card, but I feel it's immoral for me to castigate my body for getting older, when it does everything I ask of it.

If you don't like your wrinkles and you think Botox or surgery is going to fix it, do it and shut up. But don't keep talking about it.

Hats, giant shades and 60-plus sunblock are part of my summer repertoire. I don't want wrinkles, but it's skin cancer I truly fear.

You know Latin people? African-American people? How our skin ages more slowly? Even though we're dramatic, we move our faces, we eat higher-fat foods, we're the ones with fewer wrinkles - it makes you wonder.

We all get given these bodies, and they're all fascinating and different... I wouldn't want to be without the wrinkles.

A writer is like a bean plant - he has his little day, and then gets stringy.

Old age treats freelance writers pretty gently.

If you're a singer you lose your voice. A baseball player loses his arm. A writer gets more knowledge, and if he's good, the older he gets, the better he writes.

What a mystery we are to ourselves, even as we go on, learning more, sorting it out a little. The further on we go, the more meaning there is, but the less articulable. You live your life, and the older you get—the more specificity you harvest—the more precious becomes every ounce and spasm.

I was quite a looker in my time, she said. Was she reading his mind, or only being smart, to know she must be hideous? Oh, had they invented time as long ago as that?

The years peeled slowly off, one by one, or perhaps dozens at a time.

We don't go on having babies, that's quite apparent. We only have babies when we're young enough not to know how grim life turns out. Once we really get the full measure of it - we're slow learners, we women - we dry up in disgust and sensibly halt production. But men don't dry up, Melena objected; they can father to the death. Ah we're slow learners, Nanny countered. But *they* can't learn at all.

We only have babies when we're young enough not to know how grim life turns out. Once we really get the full measure of it—we're slow learners, we women—we dry up in disgust and sensibly halt production. But

Time waits for no ovary.

I'm not the only one to feel this effect; as we get older, time seems to pass more quickly. As poet Robert Southey explained: "Live as long as you may, the first twenty years are the longest half of your life. They appear so while they are passing; they seem to have been so when we look back on them; and they take up more room in our memory than all the years that succeed them.