Age is a number which puts us in chronological order of time. It does not have to dictate how old we feel or act.
Contributed by: Kris Surat.
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Age is a number which puts us in chronological order of time. It does not have to dictate how old we feel or act.
I fear that you will believe as we all believe that we can keep breaking into our store of time without counting. Our lives seem infinite until we reach in one day to find how little of them is left.
Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.
Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.
Gandalf: Three hundred lives of men I have walked this earth and now I have no time.
The success or failure of any historical age is the extent to which those living at that time have fulfilled the special role that history has imposed upon them.
All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up...
"Young men wish always to dream of what they have lost."
"And old men?"
"Of what they have not found."
"Remember that Divine Grace is a Blessing as we are alive and well in The Age of Remembrance !"
"Grown-ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. They never ask: 'What does his voice sound like?' 'What games does he like best?' 'Does he collect butterflies?' They ask: 'How old is he?' 'How many brothers does he have?' 'How much does he weigh?' 'How much money does his father make?' Only then do they think they know him."
You're only as old as you think you are...if you think at all
I have reached an age where if someone tells me to wear socks, I don't have to.
People still retain the errors of their childhood, their nation, and their age, long after they have accepted the truths needed to refute them.
he who sees age on the outside of things is doomed to underestimate the vitality of raisins.
It is not easy for a man to be as great as a mountain or a forest. But that is why the creator gave them to us as teachers. Now that I am old I Iook once more toward them for lessons, instead of trying to understand the ways of men. They tell me to be patient. They tell me I cannot change what is, I can only hope to change what will become. Let the grasses grow over our scars, they say, and let flowers bloom over our wounds.
Age is a state of mind.
Youth and age exist only among the ordinary people.
All the more talented and exceptional of us;
are sometimes old,
just as we are sometimes happy,
and sometimes sad.
I try to remember life without him and it's like trying to remember an old film I thought I'd seen but perhaps never did. I ask him if he's sorry we didn't find each other when we were young, and he says he would never have recognized me when he was young. And besides, he was too old when he was young, he says.
The wise man then followed a simple way of life-which is hardly surprising when you consider how even in this modern age he seeks to be as little encumbered as he possibly can.
At the age of six I wanted to be a cook. At seven I wanted to be Napoleon. And my ambition has been growing steadily ever since.
Every social trait labelled masculine or feminine is in truth a human trait. It is our human right to develop and contribute our talents whatever our race, sex, religion, ancestry, age. Human rights are indivisible!
The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage; A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
But an old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave.
A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
When I was young I was amazed at Plutarch's statement that the elder Cato began at the age of eighty to learn Greek. I am amazed no longer. Old age is ready to undertake tasks that youth shirked because they would take too long.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
Doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king; And,-prithee, lead me in: There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together; Youth is full of pleasance; age is full of care.
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you.
