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|Quotations about age|
Age wrinkles the body; quitting wrinkles the soul.
As you become older, you become less judgmental and take offense less. But marriage is hard work; the illusion that you get married and live happily ever after is absolute rubbish.
An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets, the more interested he is in her.
Most people don't grow up. Most people age. They find parking spaces, honor their credit cards, get married, have children, and call that maturity. What that is, is aging.
Though beauty gives you a weird sense of entitlement, it's rather frightening and threatening to have others ascribe such importance to something you know you're just renting for a while.
As I grow older, much older, I will experience many things, and I will hit rock bottom again and again. Again and again I will suffer; again and again I will get back on my feet. I will not be defeated. I won't let my spirit be destroyed.
I am still every age that I have been. Because I was once a child, I am always a child. Because I was once a searching adolescent, given to moods and ecstasies, these are still part of me, and always will be...
Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.
You know, you get that tattoo of barbed wire when you're 18, but by the time you're 80, it's a picket fence.
With the endless cycle of sunrise and sunset, life shortens. Engrossed in mundane tasks, man fails to notice the passage of time. Nor anxiety is felt at witnessing birth, advance of years, suffering and finally death. Oh, the world becomes intoxicated after drinking the wine of delusion.
The afternoon of human life must also have a significance of its own and cannot be merely a pitiful appendage to life's morning.
To know how to grow old is the master-work of wisdom, and one of the most difficult chapters in the great art of living.
The aging person's functioning, impaired though it may be, cannot be preserved or improved if he is assigned the role of full-time professional patient. His person and dress, the room in which he lives, the opportunity for privacy, the rhythm of his daily life.. .should convey the fact that the institution is his home, and should permit expression of his personal life style.
We all know the troubles of old age. The bones creak: the eyes get dim, one forgets names.... The spark does not ignite; adrenalin has lost its potency. But there is some thing to be said on the other side. It is pleasant to rise in the morning, look out at the snow, and remark "I'm not going to the office today." The beauty of nature has lost none of its charm; the beauty of women none of its benediction. There is. . .a possibility of growing old gracefully, and with content in one's heart.
Habits are the crutches of old age: by the aid of these we manage to hobble along after the mental joints are stiff and the muscles rheumatic...when every act of self determination costs an effort and a pang.
Anyone who stops learning is old whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. The greatest thing in life is to keep your mind young.
It requires twenty years for a man to rise from the vegetable state in which he is within his mother's womb, and from the pure animal state which is the lot of his early childhood, to the state when the maturity of reason begins to appear. It has required thirty centuries to learn a little about his structure. It would need eternity to learn something about his soul. It takes an instant to kill him.
Age is more a matter of how you feel, how you think, and what's going on in your head than what's going on in your feet -- although I wouldn't want to be challenged to a foot race this morning.
Whoever, in middle age, attempts to realize the wishes and hopes of his early youth, invariably deceives himself.
The shadows are lengthening for me. The twilight is here. My days of old have vanished, tone and tint. They have gone glimmering through the dreams of things that were. Their memory is one of wondrous beauty, watered by tears, and coaxed and caressed by the smiles of yesterday. I listen vainly, but with thirsty ears, for the witching melody of faint bugles blowing reveille, of far drums beating the long roll. In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield.But in the evening of my memory, always I come back to West Point.Always there echoes and re-echoes: Duty, Honor, Country.
As I give thought to the matter, I find four causes for the apparent misery of old age; first, it withdraws us from active accomplishments; second, it renders the body less powerful; third, it deprives us of almost all forms of enjoyment; fourth, it stands not far from death.
Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasure, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare.
Wherever your life ends, it is all there. The advantage of living is not measured by length, but by use; some men have lived long, and lived little; attend to it while you are in it. It lies in your will, not in the number of years, for you to have lived enough.
We have to abandon the idea that schooling is something restricted to youth. How can it be, in a world where half the things a mans knows at twenty are no longer true at forty -- and half the things he knows at forty hadn't been discovered when he was twenty?
Snag a dystopian short story, free from 9/23 - 9/29
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