Best 7157 quotes in «age quotes» category

It’s really difficult to talk about dead people, but it’s even harder to talk about dead young women. It’s because from the time they die, they’ll be young forever. On the other hand, for us, the survivors, every year, every month, every day, we get older. Sometimes, I feel like I can feel myself aging from one hour to the next. It’s a terrible thing, but that’s reality.

It's strange when you no longer recognize yourself.

It's terrible to be alone and frightened at any age, but I think it's worse when you're old.

It's the great mystery of human life that old grief passes gradually into quiet, tender joy. The mild serenity of age takes the place of the riotous blood of youth. I bless the rising sun each day, and, as before, my heart sings to meet it, but now I love even more its setting, its long slanting rays and the soft, tender, gentle memories that come with them, the dear images from the whole of my long, happy life -- and over all the Divine Truth, softening, reconciling, forgiving! My life is ending, I know that well, but every day that is left me I feel how earthly life is in touch with a new infinite, unknown, but approaching life, the nearness of which sets my soul quivering with rapture, my mind glowing and my heart weeping with joy.

It's very simple. As you grow, you learn more. If you stayed twenty-two, you'd always be as ignorant as you were at twenty-two. Aging is not just decay, you know. It's growth. It's more than the negative that you're going to die, it's also the positive that you understand you're going to die, and that you live a better life because of it.

It was dawning on the wizards that they were outside the University, at night and without permission, for the first time in decades. A certain suppressed excitement crackled from man to man. Any watch trained in reading body language would have been prepared to bet that, after the click, someone was going to suggest that they might as well go somewhere and have a few drinks, and then someone else would fancy a meal, and then there was always room for a few more drinks, and then it would be 5 a.m. and the city guards would be respectfully knocking on the University gates and asking if the Archchancellor would care to step down to the cells to identify some alleged wizards who were singing an obscene song in six-part harmony, and perhaps he would also care to bring some money to pay for all the damage. Because inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.

It was him, thirty years too old, twenty pounds too light, & forty watts too dim maybe, but him.

It was then I realized that no one can escape his age, and that my dangerous contempt had melted like ice the moment someone was kind enough to show they cared about me, and in a way that suited me.

It was the kind of building that remembered things, deep-down things, things that rode tears into the world, telling them back to anyone old enough or wise enough to know how to listen with their eyes.

I unwrapped my love for her like one might unwrap leftovers. Gotta eat up the old stuff first, as a cannibal might say in a retirement home.

I used to pass every car on the highway. Now every car passes me.

I’ve always looked like this—in between. Is there ever an age when a person looks exactly like themselves?

I've always had this theory, that we're all born with a certain optimum age, the age we're really meant to be, and once we reach it we stick there, in our minds, where it counts. Personally I've always been twenty-five. I was good at being twenty-five.

I’ve never run this far before," he said at one point. "Or this fast for so long. It’s better than sticking your head out a car window, that’s for sure." My theory is that Oberon might be a master of Tao. He always sees what we filter out. The wind and the grass and something in the sky, sun or moon, shining on our backs as we run: They are gifts that humans toss away like socks on Christmas morning, because we see them every day and don’t think of them as gifts anymore. But new socks are always better than old socks. And the wind and grass and sky, I think, are better seen with new eyes than jaded ones. I hope my eyes will never grow old.

I walked past her, thinking: Is this what happens to the youth of women? Those whom we have met in the past, if suddenly we desire to see them again, have they become old? Is the young woman whom we desire like a character on the stage, when, unable to secure the actress who created the part, the management is obliged to entrust it to a new star? But then it is no longer the same.

I was asked about my age the other day so I replied 13.82 billion years in Planck years. She politely nodded, got up and walked off into the cosmic sunset.

I was nineteen years five months old when I fell in love for the first time. This seemed to me a profound, advanced age; never can we anticipate being older than we are, or wiser; if we're exhausted, it's impossible to anticipate being strong; as, in the grip of a dream, we rarely understand that we're dreaming, and will escape by the simplest of methods, opening our eyes.

I was grown up long before the grown ups were the grown ups.

I was "older" in my head than some people twice my age. But the stupid government mandated an arbitrary measure, days on this earth, to account for ability or maturity.

I was born at a very early age. As I grew up, I got older... So far though, this is the oldest I've ever been.

I was nineteen. You had your lips on my neck and whispers in my ear. You drove me crazy. But I mistook crazy for absolute happiness.

I watched him now, his hands working gingerly, as if he were learning to use them for the first time. He could not press down hard with a knife. His fingers shook. Each bite was a struggle; he chewed the food finely before swallowing.. The skin from his wrist to his knuckles was dotted with age spots, and it was loose, like skin hanging from a chicken soup bone.

-I was young! I made a mistake, okay! Haven’t you ever made a mistake? -I’m old! Of course I’ve made mistakes, you stupid little shit!

I was the first face you saw when you were born, you were bald as my hair ran black. Now yours the last face I saw before I died, your hair ran black, as I was bald.

I went closer this time and touched him. He let out a deafening shriek, as if something had pierced into his heart. I held his hand and sat there, admiring the intricate network of life on them. The creases and folds in his body were testament to the cruelty that he had been subjected to in this world. The watery eyes screamed of the pain, the agonising wait to leave this godforsaken place forever, that had given him nothing but pleadings for mercy.

We never promised we would stay the same,/But only we would shape our change/From this now single clay.[p. 82]

I wonder if this is how it feels to grow old. Knowing that time is still passing but you’re no longer a part of it.

Je n’ai jamais su au juste quel est son âge.

Live every single day doing something relevant; single days sum up to make great ages!

Live a life that leaves a memory, nobody can steal.

Literacy rate tells us about the section of society who can read and write, but do we have a tool which can share the stats about out how many educated illiterates we have in our society.

Live a life that will make you look back in old age at your life and grin in satisfaction.

Loghain shook his head in disbelief. "Maker's breath, man, aren't you suppose to have some dignity? Somewhere?" "Me? Dignity?" "Being the supposed future King and such." "I think Rowan took my dignity." She snorted derisively, folding her arms. "There was nothing else worth having.

Love hurts us all, no matter how old or young we are.

Love does not have gender. Love is not exclusive! Our hearts have the capacity to love so many people. The only tragedy is when fear, cultural barriers, ridiculous misunderstandings, or arbitrary numbers prevent us from experiencing the joy we could have.

Love grows with ageing of human. Human grows with ageing of love.

Love is for every age auspicious, But for the virginal and young Its impulses are more propitious Like vernal storms on meadows sprung: They freshen in the rain of passion, Ripening in their renovation – And life, empowered, sends up shoots Of richest blooms and sweetest fruits. But at a late age, dry and fruitless, The final stage to which we’re led, Sad is the trace of passions dead: Thus storms in autumn, cold and ruthless, Transform the field into a slough, And strip the trees from root to bough.

Love is what makes two people sit in the middle of a bench when there is plenty of room at both ends. Love means nothing in tennis,But it's everything in life

Love is the reflection of a broken heart in a shattered mirror...

Maturity turns out to be a question you can never answer with confidence, despite advanced age and wage.

Lui è il mio anti-depressivo. Lo assecondo per liberarmi, per sentirmi viva.

Mamma says she is quite certain that "how old is too old?" is not a question known to the Lord.

Mankind willfully changing the global electromagnetic radiation environment has created what I expect will become known as the man-made evolution era.

Material wealth do not last forever, but that which probably lasts forever is the wealth of intelligence and creativity.

Love wins when reflections win over reflexes.

Make your sacred-life an eventful journey.

Many people plan financially for retirement—but not spiritually and emotionally.

Maybe I am an Old Soul among Young Bodies.

Maybe I’m a bad writer.” “No. You’re a very good writer. Kalipso was a chef d’oeuvre. So beautiful, Arthur. I admired it a lot.” Now Less is stumped. He probes his weaknesses. Too magniloquent? Too spoony? “Too old?” he ventures. “We’re all over fifty, Arthur. It’s not that you’re a bad writer.” Finley pauses for effect. “It’s that you’re a bad gay.

Memories of the past are what drive us, whether to a life of beauty or a life of insanity is up to us.