Quotes About Aging

Qué podía decir?¿Que me daba igual la vida?¿Que cada día me quitan más y más y me quedo con menos y menos? Un segundo menos; un segundo menos...¿Que estaba cansado de coleccionar millones de minutos de pasar miles de horas muertas?¿Que los últimos años, esperando el Alzheimer o un cáncer, no son dorados sino de latón?

Something weird happens to your brain. This brain has served you well for so long, but it starts punking you. You can't remember directions, you forget why you walked into a room, and for the life of you, you can't recall your third kid's name (

I turned forty this year. Forty! Which is so weird because I've always been young. I've been young my whole life, as a matter of fact. No matter how I dissect this, I've aged out of the "young" category and graduated to the "middle" group. My brain feels confused about this because I am so juvenile. I make up my own words to hip-hop songs and quote Paul Rudd as a parenting strategy. Surely I am a preteen.

Lastly, physical freedom includes being comfortable with our physical desires, appetites, and changes that come with age. This means we don't beat ourselves up for feeling hungry, or how our skin or movements change with age, but embrace them as part of the story of our self and body in the world," wrote McBride.12

An owl's auditory system shares with other birds another superpower we mammals don't possess: it doesn't age.

You know what makes me feel old? When I see girls who are 20-something, or the new crop of actresses, and I think, Aren't we kind of the same age? You lose perspective. Or being offered the part of a woman with a 17-year-old child. It's like, "I'm not old enough to have a 17-year-old!" And then you realize, well, yeah, you are.

I am grateful to learn from their mistakes, because I am not injecting s--- into my face. I see them and my heart breaks. I think, 'Oh God, if you only know how much older you look.' They are trying to stop the clock and all you can see is an insecure person who won't let themselves just age.

You know, I've got wrinkles on my forehead and smile lines, but what's wrong with that? I love to smile.

What i'm trying to tell you," Min said, "is that im going to grow up to be one of those chubby old ladies. It's in my genes. Like self raising flour. i'm going to pouf." "thats going to work out well for me," Cal said. "because i'm going to grow up to be one of those horny old men who chases chubby old ladies around the couch.

I think your vision gets better as you get older.

Things are NEVER what they seem, Pa, I thought. I used to think they were, but I was wrong or stupid or blind or something. Old folks are forever complaining about their failing eyesight, but I think your vision gets better as you get older. Mine surely was.

So this is it ? what cost me all that time. A man who turned out to be old, a house that turned out to be empty.

time's a goon

Nineteen eighty is almost here, thank God. the hippies are getting old, they blew their brains on acid and now they're begging on street corners all over San Francisco. Their hair is tangled and their bare feet are thick and gray as shoes. We're sick of them.

Only his folks altered with the years, their hair going silver, Robert Sr., a high school football coach , ultimately on oxygen for emphysema, both of them seeming to shrink on the couch cushions in a way that made the crystal and porcelain artifacts look bigger each year.

My questions all seem wrong: How did you get so old? Was it all at once, in a day, or did you peter out bit by bit? When did you stop having parties? Did everyone else get old too, or was it just you? Are other people still here, hiding in the palm trees or holding their breath underwater? When did you last swim your laps? Do your bones hurt? Did you know this was coming and hide that you knew, or did it ambush you from behind?

Nineteen eighty is almost here, thank God. The hippies are getting old, they blew their brains on acid and now they're begging on street corners all over San Francisco. Their hair is tangled and their bare feet are thick and gray as shoes. We're sick of them.

The hippies are getting old, they blew their brains on acid and now they're begging on street corners all over San Francisco. Their hair is tangled and their bare feet are thick and gray as shoes. We're sick of them.

His sister's transformation from aging tart to fussing nanny seemed almost instantaneous

We stand there, quiet. My questions all seem wrong: How did you get so old? Was it all at once, in a day, or did you peter out bit by bit? When did you stop having parties? Did everyone else get old too, or was it just you? Are other people still here, hiding in the palm trees or holding their breath underwater? When did you last swim your laps? Do your bones hurt? Did you know this was coming and hide that you knew, or did it ambush you from behind?

I'm done. I'm old, I'm sad - that's on a good day. I want out of this mess. But I don't want to fade away, I want to flame away - I want my death to be an attraction, a spectacle, a mystery. A work of art.

Days in a house with children grind by like glaciers, but the years rush by like wind.

Each minute seemed like hours and hours. But then the years passed by like days.

In the sad B movie that was life in Grantham, actors were recast periodically, replaced with younger models, but the script itself never changed. It was that kind of town.