The OakLive thy Life, Young and old,Like yon oak,Bright in spring, Living gold;Summer-rich Then; and thenAutumn-changedSoberer-hued Gold again.All his leaves Fall’n at length,Look, he stands,Trunk and bough Naked strength.

Miu let age naturally rise to the surface, accepted it for what it was, and made her peace with it.

Everything was brighter and more colorful in those years, as if my youth was ending in an explosion of unreal passion. Memories like these make my life sacred and holy.

Anyway, those things would not have lasted long.The experience of the years shows it to me.But Destiny arrived in some haste and stopped them.The beautiful life was brief.But how potent were the perfumes,On how splendid...

The land of easy mathematics where he who works adds up and he who retires subtracts.

Unattached and aimless, these old men are always infatuated with little certainties and regularities such as those that ordered the life of Mr. Krupper as seen from outside. Habit is living. Anything unexpected reminds them...

Doesn’t seem quite real. It’s not meaningful. I can’t quite imagine myself being 73. That’s the age my father was! [Laughter.] How can I be his age? It’s weird.

I was thinking not very long ago about the difference between the people we “grew up” with vs. the people we’re “growing old” with – not always being one and the same – and how...

You’re never too old to be young.

God is like a mirror, consistent, stable, unchanging; reflecting His image of us, that is always changing.

With her slim, tight figure, a little makeup and she’d easily pass for late twenties. But she didn’t make the effort. Miu let age naturally rise to the surface, accepted it for what it was,...

Without knowing why or how, I found myself in love with this strange Wanderess. Maybe I was just in love with the dream she was selling me: a life of destiny and fate; as my...

Hardest of all, as one becomes older, is to accept that sapient remarks can be drawn from the most unwelcome or seemingly improbable sources, and that the apparently more trustworthy sources can lead one astray.

One Life With Many Names, Childhood, Boyhood, Manhood And Old, Then? Then! All Unknown, Uncertain Destination….

Seven Ages: first puking and mewlingThen very pissed-off with your schoolingThen fucks, and then fightsNext judging chaps’ rightsThen sitting in slippers: then drooling.

Beauty is only to be admired, only to be loved – to be harvested carefully and then flung at a chosen lover like a gift of roses. It seems to me, so far as I...

Was it the case that colours dimmed as the eye grew elderly? Or was it rather that in youth your excitement about the world transferred itself onto everything you saw and made it brighter?

I can’t get my knickers in a twist about my age and ageing in an industry that caters to the ids of 14-year-olds.

It’s not that I’m particularly worried about growing old. Nor am I all that bothered about wrinkles, grey hair and all that. BUT. Major but. I don’t like the idea of dying – not when...

When did my youth slip away from me? I suddenly thought. It was over, wasn’t it? Seemed just like yesterday I was still only half grown up. Huey Lewis and the News had a couple...

The youthful body untouched decays the fastest, for no living hands record its splendor; and here youth and time are wasted.

A melancholy lesson of advancing years is the realisation that you can’t make old friends.

When the years are dying in the arms of your life,the earth is in pain moving around the sun.

Time is a function of memory; what does not pass through a smile flies away through dark. Celebrating passing time applies to the successful ones. Cheer on your birthday, you’re among the lucky ones.

Age is no better, hardly so well, qualified for an instructor as youth, for it has not profited so much as it has lost. One may almost doubt if the wisest man has learned anything...

… forty’s nothing, at fifty you’re in your prime, sixty’s the new forty, and so on.

…inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.

In the old pieces of furniture almost as in the old paintings, dwells the charm of the past, of the faded which becomes stronger in a man when he reaches an advanced age.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, Love and desire and hate: I think they have no portion in us after We pass the gate. They are not long, the days of wine...

How old would you be if you didn;t know how old you are?

I looked at the group of human remains that languished in the corner and smiled at them. It occurred to me that their very presence was testimony to the moral emptiness of the universe and...

These wrinkles are nothingThese gray hairs are nothing,This stomach which sagswith old food, these bruisedand swollen ankles, my darkening brain,they are nothing.I am the same boymy mother used to kiss.

Forty-two. His age had astounded him for years, and each time that he had sat so astounded, trying to figure out what had become of the young, slim man in his twenties, a whole additional...

Ik ben niet bevreesd, noch voor de ouderdom noch voor de dood, maar berusting is me schrikbeeld. Nooit zou ik aan de oevers waar braafheid en gezapigheid wonen, willen aanleggen. Ik ben nu vijfentachtig, ik...

The problem with memories is they get more valuable with time, and the places we keep them get weaker with age.

How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true; But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

While you keep ageing, your experience compensates for your lost brain power.

…real age, as I came to see from the genuine pieces that passed through my hands, was variable, crooked, capricious, singing here and sullen there, warm asymmetrical streaks on a rosewood cabinet from where a...

I am incapable of conceiving infinity, and yet I do not accept finity. I want this adventure that is the context of my life to go on without end.

To resist the frigidity of old age, one must combine the body, the mind, and the heart. And to keep these in parallel vigor one must exercise, study, and love.

Would you still read me when I become a blank page.

Look, moonI turned silver for you.

Eustasia Johannsen was ready. Anyone could see that. Everything about her ancient self gave evidence to it: Her skin, wrinkled and transparent… But mainly, it was her eyes. They were drawn into her face as...

She has built her whole life on the foundation of beauty: each chiseled plane, each sloping dimple, each soft curve as crucial as keystones in the cathedral of her body.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,A tattered coat upon a stick, unlessSoul clap its hands and sing, and louder singFor every tatter in its mortal dress

Growing age can kill the beauty, not the style.

Because though women lie when they have to and men lie all the time, the mirror always tells the truth.

And then there is that day when all around,all around you hear the dropping of the apples, oneby one, from the trees. At first it is one here and one there,and then it is three...

You know you’re old when you’re watching Karate Kid and you realize you’re more attracted to Mr. Miagi than Ralph Macchio.

You don’t stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing.