The end comes when we no longer talk with ourselves. It is the end of genuine thinking and the beginning of the final loneliness.
The excess of our youth are checks written against our age and they are payable with interest thirty years later.
The foolishness of old age does not characterize all who are old, but only the foolish.
The golden age is before us, not behind us.
The great secret that all old people share is that you really haven't changed in seventy or eighty years. Your body changes, but you don't change at all. And that, of course, causes great confusion.
The heart never grows better by age; I fear rather worse, always harder. A young liar will be an old one, and a young knave will only be a greater knave as he grows older.
The latter part of a wise person's life is occupied with curing the follies, prejudices and false opinions they contracted earlier.
The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away; than what it leaves behind.
The misery of the middle-aged woman is a gray and hopeless thing, born of having nothing to live for, of disappointment and resentment at having been gypped by consumer society, and surviving merely to be the butt of its unthinking scorn.
The more sand has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.
The nearer people approach old age the closer they return to a semblance of childhood, until the time comes for them to depart this life, again like children, neither tired of living nor aware of death.
The old — like children — talk to themselves, for they have reached that hopeless wisdom of experience which knows that though one were to cry it in the streets to multitudes, or whisper it in the kiss to one's beloved, the only ears that can ever hear one's secrets are one's own!
The older I grow the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom.
The older one grows, the more one likes indecency.
The older the fiddler, the sweeter the tune.
The older we get the more we must limit ourselves if we wish to be active.
The older we grow the greater becomes our wonder at how much ignorance one can contain without bursting one's clothes.
The older woman's love is not love of herself, nor of herself mirrored in a lover's eyes, nor is it corrupted by need. It is a feeling of tenderness so still and deep and warm that it gilds every grass blade and blesses every fly. It includes the ones who have a claim on it, and a great deal else besides. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
The older you get the stronger the wind gets — and it's always in your face.
The only time you really live fully is from thirty to sixty. The young are slaves to dreams; the old servants of regrets. Only the middle-aged have all their five senses in the keeping of their wits.