Although initially only few in numbers, it seems my gray hairs have launched an effective peer-pressure campaign intended to convert the others.

A tree with red leaves is like an old man with gray hair. Likewise, my love for you was blue, but now it’s orange, and that’s a compliment.

His hair isn’t turning gray—it’s turning silver, and it’s going up in value. Aging is the best hedge against an inflationary fiat currency.

Work hard or don’t work hard, either way your hair will turn gray. I should let you be alone while you die, slowly.

I’m getting gray hair in all sorts of crazy places. Like all over my carpet. It’s like I live in a nursing home, except without all the sex.

If youth was sold in a bottle of hair dye, we would all get in line.

A Touch of Gray,” because I’d look more distinguished with a touch of gray in my hair. Also, geriatrics make better lovers.