Best 20 quotes in «old lady quotes» category

I don't want to die an old lady.

The waitress scuttles away, and I make a shooing motion at the old couple who’re still glaring. “Don’t you have something to better to work on?” I hiss. “Like golfing or eating prunes or dying?” The old lady looks shocked. “Okay, sorry, not dying. But seriously, prunes are good for you.

When I was suddenly thrust into what everyone calls menopause (Orchids) earlier than my body planned, I decided someone needed to take charge on so many levels. It was time to not only change the vernacular, but to speak up and say "Hey! This isn't an old lady's disease! We aren't old! We are strong and dammit, we are beautiful and sexy too!

History, that excitable and unreliable old lady.

I am not Christ or a philanthropist, old lady, I am all the contrary of a Christ.

At the small table, sitting very upright, was one of the ugliest old ladies he had ever seen. It was an ugliness of distinction - it fascinated rather than repelled.

I am for an art that tells you the time of day, or where such and such a street is. I am for an art that helps old ladies across the street.

I'd like to punch out a really old lady. There'd be no repercussions.

It felt like strappy sandals were looking really old lady-ish; really dated and not cool.

I'm gonna do the whole bedroom in camel color - it's an old lady color.

The grand old lady of bluegrass? Well, wouldn't that be a wonderful title to have? I hope I do enough to earn it some day

I won't quit to become someone's old lady.

There's no rage like old lady rage, just as there's no tenderness like old lady tenderness.

The price of meat has just gone up and your old lady has just gone down.

You gotta keep changing. Shirts, old ladies, whatever.

There was an old lady who lived in a shoe. She had so many kids... her uterus fell out!

Communication by touch is not for every old dutch.

747s always remind me of a fat, ugly old lady in the neighborhood where I used to live. Huge sagging breasts, swollen legs, dried up neckline. The airport, a likely gathering place for the old ladies. Dozens of them, coming and going, one after the other.

I would like to be like Rome when I am an old lady.

She (my mother) could still recite them (the poems) in full when she was lying helpless and nearly blind, in her bed, an old lady. Reciting, her voice took on resonance and firmness, it rang with the old fervor, with ferocity even. She was teaching me one more, almost her last, lesson: emotions do not grow old. I knew that I would feel as she did, and I do.