Quotes About Aging

He had a frozen, wide-eyed look to his face, I remember, the way some old people do, like they are perpetually startled by the monstrous surprise that is old age.

could not picture that Father had once swung on a swing. He could not imagine that Father had once been a boy, like him. A boy. Carefree, light on his feet. Running headlong into the open fields with his playmates. Father, whose hands were scarred, whose face was crosshatched with deep lines of weariness. Father, who might as well have been born with shovel in hand and mud under his nails.

And despite the eyeliner, and the lipstick that defines her lips, she has a face now that a passerby's gaze will engage and then bounce from, as it would a street sign or a mailbox number. ...this is what aging is...

This is what aging is...these random unkind moments that catch you when you least expect them.

The moment is brief, barely enough for a flutter of the pulse but long enough for her illusory self to catch up with the reality of the woman gazing back from the shopwindow. It is a little devastating. This is what aging is, she thinks as she follows Isabelle into the store, these random unkind moments that catch you when you least expect them.

they rarely look at Baba - the teenagers - and then only with cold indifference, or even subtle disdain, as if my father should have known better than to allow old age and decay to happen to him.

Perkataan Hassan ini membuatku bersedih. Aku bersedih untuk jati diri Hassan, dan untuk tempatnya tinggal. Untuk kepasrahannya menerima kenyataan bahwa dia akan menua di pondok tanah liat di halaman, seperti yang terjadi pada ayahnya.

Ben presto si sarebbe ritrovato adulto. E allora non ci sarebbe stato modo di tornare indietro, perché l'essere adulto era qualcosa di simile a ciò che suo padre una volta aveva detto a proposito dell'essere un eroe di guerra. Quando si diventa eroe, si muore eroe.

The moment is brief, barely enough for a flutter of the pulse but long enough for her illusory self to catch up with the reality of the woman gazing back from the shopwindow. It is a little devastating. This is what aging is, she thinks

Time makes us forget.

When you have counted eighty years and more, Time and Fate will batter at your door; But if you should survive to be a hundred, Your life will be death to the very core.

Oh, God, I'm going to be a hundred and sixty with a flower on my ass.

Oh God. "Jenks, you aren't a carton of milk with an expiration date. You look great—

It seemed to him that nothing would ever be explained, and that all of a sudden each day was slipping away, that time was flying by and they were getting old and nothing would ever come clear.

history was a wave that moved through time slightly faster than an individual life did, so that even when people had lived only to seventy or eighty, they had been behind the wave by the time they died;

Of course I am old now, but there is no changing that, except by death. At least I have this day, and these days.

She often felt a nostalgia for the present, aware that her life was passing by faster than she could properly take it in. She lived it, she felt it; she had given nothing to age, she still wanted everything; but she could not make it whole or coherent.

Senescence is not a simple matter. Staying alive when senescence should have kicked in—it's a wonder we've done as much as we have. There's probably a purpose in senescence. Avoiding overpopulation, perhaps. Making room for new genetic material.

No pleasure is worth giving up for the sake of two more years in a geriatric home in Weston-super-Mare

Everybody had been in their twenties then; well, round about thirty. Now, from round about seventy, all those years of maturity or the prime of life or whatever you called it looked like an interval between two bouts of vomiting.

Einstein's law of time warps says that Everyting likes to live where it is going to age more slowly, and gravity pulls it there.

I stared at older men I thought might be candidates and was thoroughly heartbroken every time the connection didn't occur the way I'd written it in my journal.

God preserve me from growing wise! Yes, I intend to mumble toothlessly to my deathbed bystanders: God preserve me from growing wise!

Ah, how hard it is to manage the fateful transition to old age gracefully and calmly! Instead, convulsions, writhings, grimaces, strife with the younger generation, envy.