Quotes About Aging

One of the things you realize about gettin older is that not everbody is goin to get older with you. You

The other thing is the old people, and I keep comin back to them. They look at me it's always a question. Years back I dont remember that. I dont remember it when I was sheriff back in the fifties. You see em and they dont even look confused. They just look crazy. That bothers me. It's like they woke up and they dont know how they got where they're at. Well, in a manner of speakin they dont.

You see a man, he scratchin to make it. Think once he got it made everthing be all right. But you dont never have it made. Dont care who you are. Look up one mornin and you a old man. You aint got nothin to say to your brother. Dont know no more'n when you started.

A man gets older, he said, he finds they's lots of things he can do jest as well without and so he don't have to worry about this and that the way a young feller will. I worked near all my life and never had nothin. Seems like a old man'd be allowed his rest but then he comes to find they's things you have to do on account of nobody else wants to attend to em.

They used to pester me about gettin married again and I was near sixty when my wife died. My sister in law primarily. I'd done already had the best woman ever was. Aint nobody goin to be that lucky twice runnin.

Memories dim with age. There is no repository for our images. The loved ones who visit us in dreams are strangers. To even see aright is effort. We seek some witness but the world will not provide one. This is the third history. It is the history that each man makes alone out of what is left to him. Bits of wreckage. Some bones. The words of the dead. How make a world of this? How live in that world once made?

Sai bene come finiscono gli eroi. Non hanno né mogli né figli, e non diventano vecchi.

I'm gonna enjoy being old I think I'll be awesome at it.

I should protect and cherish the young, the old, and the infirm, because at some point I would be all of these things before my own journey ended.

Cada vez que un hombre ríe, añade un par de días a su vida

The former Mary Loveday was a thin woman in whose face any youthful beauty she may have possessed had been extinguished by years and unhappiness. There were unbecoming shadows around her eyes, two lines of discontent drew down her mouth corners, and her skin had the dry and unnourished look of a woman without a lover. Her

Apparently one grows more carnal and more mortal as one grows older. Only youth has a taste of immortality--

You had to take it out some way or other, your youth, or it ate you up. But what a ghastly thing, this youth! you felt as old as Methuselah, and yet the thing fizzed somehow, and didn't let you be comfortable. A mean sort of life! And no prospect!

Her face was falling loose, but her eyes were calm, and there was something strong in her that made it seem she was not old; merely her wrinkles and loose cheeks were an anachronism.

Morel fell into a slow ruin. His body, which had been beautiful in movement and in being, shrank, did not seem to ripen with the years, but to get mean and rather despicable.

On Friday Ma came timidly out to the pool wearing her beach robe. In her hands she held her equipment: cup of tea, cigarettes, nasal spray. She struggled with the gate, walked up to the water, and dunked her big toe. "Cold," she said.

Here I sit gossiping in the early candle-light of old age—and my book—casting backward glances over our travel'd road.

He also noted that the veins of humans narrow with age, but the springs and rivers of the earth continually enlarge their channels.30

There is one note on the page that seems disconnected from everything else. It is a recipe for making blond-brown hair dye: "To make hair tawny, take nuts and boil them in lye and immerse the comb in it, then comb the hair and let it dry in the sun." This may have been a notation in preparation for a court pageant. But it is more likely, I think, that the recipe is a rare intimate jotting. Leonardo was deep into his thirties by now. Perhaps he was resisting going gray.

The evolutionary process cares little about what happens to us after we have children and get them to a safe age, so there are a whole bunch of middle-aged maladies, including Huntington's and most forms of cancer, that we humans would want to eliminate, even though nature sees no need to.

As he aged, he pursued his scientific inquiries not just to serve his art but out of a joyful instinct to fathom the profound beauties of creation. When he groped for a theory of why the sky appears blue, it was not simply to inform his paintings. His curiosity was pure, personal, and delightfully obsessive.

So as he grew old, he was not only respected and revered by his colleagues, he was loved.

What's that got to do with a few gray hairs?" Angelo wanted to know. "Girl see one or two and she thinks maybe the man done aged enough to calm down, make somethin' outta himself. She willin' to let him look so maybe she could see what his prospects are like. That way a man like me might get a great night or a lifetime of pot roasts, fat babies, and halfhearted regrets.

Thou hast had thty day, old dame, but thy sun has long been set. Thou art now the very emblem of an old warhorse turned out on the barren heath; thou hast had thy paces in thy time, but now a broken amble is the best of them.