Is there something you can do about it? You’re darned right there is! You can fight back. Mister Old Age is not going to get you, by golly! All you need is a little determination — a willingness to get out of that reclining lounge chair, climb into that sweatsuit, lace on those running shoes, stride out that front door, and hurl yourself in front of that municipal bus.
No, wait. Sorry. For a moment there I got carried away by the bleakness of it all. Forget what I said. Really. There is absolutely no need to become suicidally depressed about the fact that every organ in your body is headed straight down the toilet.Dave Barry (b. 1947) American humorist, author, columnist
Dave Barry Turns 40, ch. 2 “Your Disintegrating Body” (1990)
(Source)
Quotations about:
growing old
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
All the best sands of my life are somehow getting into the wrong end of the hourglass. If I could only reverse it! Were it in my power to do so, would I?
Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907) American writer, poet, critic, editor
“Leaves from a Notebook,” Ponkapog Papers (1903)
(Source)
To be happy in this world, especially when youth is past, it is necessary to feel oneself not merely an isolated individual whose day will soon be over, but part of the stream of life flowing on from the first germ to the remote and unknown future.
Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) English mathematician and philosopher
Conquest of Happiness, Part 2, ch. 13 “Family” (1930)
(Source)
It’s like all the time I was working keeping house and raising the kids and making love and earning our keep I thought there was going to come a time or there would be some place where all of it came together. Like it was words I was saying, all my life, all the kinds of work, just a word here and a word there, but finally all the words would make a sentence, and I could read the sentence. I would have made my soul and know what it was for. But I have made my soul and I don’t know what to do with it. Who wants it?
You will recognize, my boy, the first sign of old age: it is when you go out into the streets of London and realize for the first time how young the policemen look.
Seymour Hicks (1871-1949) British actor, playwright, producer
(Attributed)
(Source)
Quoted in C. R. D. Pulling, They Were Singing, ch. 7 (1952).
A man my age is willing to accept almost anything. After the initial shock of astonishment that comes each morning when I wake up and discover that I’m still alive, I can face the day with an open mind.
I feel like I was walking across Nevada, like the pioneers, carrying a lot of stuff I need, but as I go along I have to keep dropping off things. I had a piano once but it got swamped at a crossing of the Platte. I had a good frypan but it got too heavy and I left it in the Rockies. I had a couple ovaries but they wore out around the time we were in the Carson Sink. I had a good memory but pieces of it keep dropping off, have to leave them scattered around in the sage brush, on the sand hills.
Old age is not an accomplishment; it is just something that happens to you despite yourself, like falling downstairs.
When Aunt Em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife. The sun and wind had changed her, too. They had taken the sparkle from her eyes and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red from her cheeks and lips, and they were gray also. She was thin and gaunt, and never smiled, now.
L. Frank Baum (1856-1919) American author [Lyman Frank Baum]
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, ch. 1 (1900)
(Source)
Another nice thing about getting old is you can leave any social event early just by saying you’re tired.
George Carlin (1937-2008) American comedian
Show (2008-03-01), It’s Bad for Ya, “Old Fuck,” Wells Fargo Center, Santa Rosa, California (HBO)
(Source (Audio); dialogue verified)
Variant: "One great thing about getting old is that you can get out of all sorts of social obligations just by saying you're tired."
Now I know that in thus turning Conservative with years, I am going through the normal cycle of change and travelling in the common orbit of men’s opinions. I submit to this, as I would submit to gout or grey hair, as a concomitant of growing age or else of failing animal heat; but I do not acknowledge that it is necessarily a change for the better — I dare say it is deplorably for the worse.
Youth is a wonderful thing. What a crime to waste it on children.
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) Irish playwright and critic
(Attributed)
Widely attributed to Shaw (also to Oscar Wilde), but no actual source has been found.
For more discussion of this quotations origin, see Quote Origin: Youth Is Wasted on the Young – Quote Investigator®.
People will say, “Seventy isn’t old, it’s middle-aged,” and I think, middle of what — 140?
Judith Martin (b. 1938) American author, journalist, etiquette expert [a.k.a. Miss Manners]
Essay (1996-03/04), Modern Maturity magazine
Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you’re aboard, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t stop the plane, you can’t stop the storm, you can’t stop time. So one might as well accept it calmly, wisely.
Golda Meir (1898-1978) Russian-American-Israeli politician, teacher; Prime Minister of Israel (1969-1974)
Interview (1972-11) by Oriana Fallaci, Ms. (1973-04)
(Source)
Answering to the charge that she is hard and inflexible, countering that she is very sensitive and feeling in most matters.
The full interview was reprinted in Fallaci, Interview with History, ch. 4 "Golda Meir" (1974) [tr. Shepley (1976)], but slightly rephrased:Old age is like an airplane flying in a storm. Once you're in it, there's nothing you can do. You can't stop a plane, you can't stop a storm, you can't stop time. So you might as well take it easy, with wisdom.
Was this re-edited (and in which instance?), or is it a matter of different translation? It's unclear in what language the interview was conducted, but the original edition of the book (Intervista con la Storia) was in Italian, Fallaci's native language, which gave the passage as follow:La vecchiaia é come un aereo che vola nella tempesta. Una volta che ci sei dentro, non puoi farci pid nulla. Non si ferma un aereo, non si ferma una tempesta, non si ferma il tempo. Quindi tanto vale pigliarsela calma, in saggezza.
When the old man waggles his head and says, “Ah, so I thought when I was your age,” he has proved the youth’s case. Doubtless, whether from growth of experience or decline of animal heat, he thinks so no longer; but he thought so while he was young; and all men have thought so while they were young, since there was dew in the morning or hawthorn in May; and here is another young man adding his vote to those of previous generations and riveting another link to the chain of testimony.
And yet I would not be a child again.
For surely as the night succeeds the day,
So surely will their mirth turn into tears.
And I would not return to happy hours,
If I must live again these weary years.
I would walk on, and leave it all behind:
will walk on; and when my feet grow sore,
The boatman waits — his sails are all unfurled —
He waits to row me to a fairer shore.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author, poet, temperance advocate, spiritualist
Poem (1868), “An Autumn Reverie,” st. 4-5, Shells (1873)
(Source)
It feels great to be 95. I mean, for those parts of me that still have feeling.
Bob Hope (1903-2003) American comedian, actor, humanitarian (b. Leslie Townes Hope)
“95 Years of Hope,” press kit, joke sheet (1998)
(Source)
It is unclear if Hope originated the joke, or one of his writers, or even if it was something he picked up from elsewhere. It was attributed to him in the profile "The C. E. O. of Comedy," by John Lahr, New Yorker, Vol. 74 (1998-12-21), and included in the posthumously published Bob Hope: My Life in Jokes, "My Nineties: 1993-2003" (2003) [with Linda Hope].
The same joke (updated) was told by Hope as he approached 100, e.g., BBC News, "Bob Hope's One-Liners" (2003-07-28).
Let mine not be the saddest fate of all,
To live beyond my greater self; to see
My faculties decaying, as the tree
Stands stark and helpless while its green leaves fall.
Let me hear rather the imperious call,
Which all men dread, in my glad morning time,
And follow death ere I have reached my prime,
Or drunk the strengthening cordial of life’s gall.
The lightning’s stroke or the fierce tempest blast
Which fells the green tree to the earth to-day
Is kinder than the calm that lets it last,
Unhappy witness of its own decay.
May no man ever look on me and say,
“She lives, but all her usefulness is past.”Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author, poet, temperance advocate, spiritualist
Poem (1882), “Uselessness,” Maurine and Other Poems (1882 ed.)
(Source)
Old age isn’t a battle; old age is a massacre.
CHORUS: Around my javelin let the spider weave
Her subtle threads; while I, grown old in peace …[ΧΟΡΟΣ: κείσθω δόρυ μοι μίτον ἀμφιπλέκειν ἀράχναις·
μετὰ δ’ ἡσυχίας πολιῷ γήρᾳ συνοικῶν]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Erectheus [Ἐρεχθεύς], frag. 369 (TGF) (422 BC) [tr. Wodhull (1809)]
(Source)
Nauck frag. 369, Barnes frag. 53, Musgrave frag. 6. (Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:May my spear idle lie, and spiders spin
Their webs about it! May I, oh may I, pass
My hoary age in peace!
[tr. Wordsworth (1836)]Let my spear lie idle for spiders to weave their webs
on it. May I live in tranquillity, dwelling with grey
old age.
[tr. Cropp]
The youth gets together his materials to build a bridge to the moon, or perchance a palace or temple on the earth, and at length the middle-aged man concludes to build a woodshed of them.
Cadfael buckled his saddlebags before him, and mounted a little stiffly, but with plain pleasure. Considerately, Hugh refrained from offering help. Sixty-five is an age deserving of respect and reverence from the young, but those who have reached it do not always like to be reminded.
Ellis Peters (1913-1995) English writer, translator [pseud. of Edith Mary Pargeter, who also wrote under the names John Redfern, Jolyon Carr, Peter Benedict]
Brother Cadfael’s Penance, ch. 2 (1994)
(Source)
You are young, and then you are middle-aged, but it is hard to tell the moment of passage from one state to the next. Then you are old, but you hardly know when it happened.
Doris Lessing (1919-2013) British author, biographer, playwright [b. Doris May Tayler]
The Summer Before the Dark (1973)
(Source)
He had never before been quite so acutely aware of the particular quality and function of November, its ripeness and its hushed sadness. The year proceeds not in a straight line through the seasons, but in a circle that brings the world and man back to the dimness and mystery in which both began, and out of which a new seed-time and a new generation are about to begin. Old men, thought Cadfael, believe in that new beginning, but experience only the ending. It may be that God is reminding me that I am approaching my November. Well, why regret it? November has beauty, has seen the harvest into the barns, even laid by next year’s seed. No need to fret about not being allowed to stay and sow it, someone else will do that. So go contentedly into the earth with the moist, gentle, skeletal leaves, worn to cobweb fragility, like the skins of very old men, that bruise and stain at the mere brushing of the breeze, and flower into brown blotches as the leaves into rotting gold. The colours of late autumn are the colours of the sunset: the farewell of the year and the farewell of the day. And of the life of man? Well, if it ends in a flourish of gold, that is no bad ending.
Ellis Peters (1913-1995) English writer, translator [pseud. of Edith Mary Pargeter, who also wrote under the names John Redfern, Jolyon Carr, Peter Benedict]
Brother Cadfael’s Penance, ch. 1 (1994)
(Source)
Years steal
Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb;
And life’s enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) English poet
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto 3, st. 8 (1816)
(Source)
The buttonwood throws off its bark in large flakes, which one may find lying at its foot, pushed out, and at last pushed off, by that tranquil movement from beneath, which is too slow to be seen, but too powerful to be arrested. One finds them always, but one rarely sees them fall. So it is our youth drops from us, — scales off, sapless and lifeless, and lays bare the tender and immature fresh growth of old age. Looked at collectively, the changes of old age appear as a series of personal insults and indignities, terminating at last in death.
The fust intimashun i had that i waz gitting old waz, i found myself telling to mi friends the same storys over again.
[The first intimation I had that I was getting old was, I found myself telling to my friends the same stories over again.]
Josh Billings (1818-1885) American humorist, aphorist [pseud. of Henry Wheeler Shaw]
Everybody’s Friend, Or; Josh Billing’s Encyclopedia and Proverbial Philosophy of Wit and Humor, ch. 155 “Affurisms: Ink Lings” (1874)
(Source)
I’m growing fonder of my staff;
I’m growing dimmer in the eyes;
I’m growing fainter in my laugh;
I’m growing deeper in my sighs;
I’m growing careless of my dress;
I’m growing frugal of my gold;
I’m growing wise; I’m growing, — yes, —
I’m growing old!
Sum folks, az they gro older, gro wizer; but most folks simply gro stubbornner.
[Some folks, as they grow older, grow wiser; but most folks simply grow more stubborn.]Josh Billings (1818-1885) American humorist, aphorist [pseud. of Henry Wheeler Shaw]
Everybody’s Friend, Or; Josh Billing’s Encyclopedia and Proverbial Philosophy of Wit and Humor, ch. 148 “Affurisms: Ink Brats” (1874)
(Source)
Ah, Postumus! they fleet away,
Our years, nor piety one hour
Can win from wrinkles and decay,
And Death’s indomitable power.
[Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,
labuntur anni nec pietas moram
rugis et instanti senectae
adferet indomitaeque morti.]Horace (65–8 BC) Roman poet, satirist, soldier, politician [Quintus Horatius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 2, # 14, l. 1ff (2.14.1-4) (23 BC) [tr. Conington (1872)]
(Source)
"To Postumus." It is unclear which acquaintance of Horace this was addressed to; the name is popularly associated (back to Horace's time) with being given to a child born after the death of their father (which gives it a certain irony here); in reality, it was originally given to the (broader) category of last children of a father.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Ah Posthumus! the years of man
Slide on with winged pace, nor can
Vertue reprieve her friend
From wrinkles, age, and end.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]Time (Posthumus) goes with full sail,
Nor can thy honest heart avail
A furrow'd brow, old age at hand,
Or Death unconquer'd to withstand:
One long night,
Shall hide this light
From all our sight,
And equal Death
Shall few dayes hence,
stop every breath.
[tr. S. W.; ed. Brome (1666)]The whirling year, Ah Friend! the whirling year Rouls on apace;
And soon shall wrinkles plough thy wither'd Face:
In vain you wast your Pious breath,
No prayers can stay, no vows defer
The swift approach of Age, and conqu'ring Death.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Alas! my Postumus, my Postumus, the fleeting years glide on; nor will piety cause any delay to wrinkles, and advancing old age, and insuperable death.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Ah, Posthumus, the years, the fleeting years
Still onwards, onwards glide;
Nor mortal virtue may
Time's wrinkling fingers stay,
Nor Age's sure advance, nor Death's all-conquering stride.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Postumus, Postumus, the years glide by us,
Alas! no piety delays the wrinkles,
Nor old age imminent,
Nor the indomitable hand of Death.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Ah! Postumus! Devotion fails
The lapse of gliding years to stay,
With wrinkled age it nought avails
Nor conjures conquering Death away.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Ah me! how quickly, Postumus, Postumus,
Glide by the years! nor even can piety
Delay the wrinkles, and advancing
Age, and attacks of unconquer'd Hades.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Alas! Postumus, Postumus, the fleeing years
Slip by, and duteousness does not give pause
To wrinkles, or to hasting age,
Or death unconquerable.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Ah! Postumus, Postumus, fast fly the years,
And prayers to wrinkles and impending age
Bring not delay; nor shalt assuage
Death's stroke with pious tears.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Alas, O Postumus, Postumus, the years glide swiftly by, nor will righteousness give pause to wrinkles, to advancing age, or Death invincible.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Ah, Postumus, my Postumus, the fleeting years roll by;
Wrinkles and ever nearing eld stay not for piety:
Relentless they, relentless death's unconquered tyranny.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Ah, how they glide by, Postumus, Postumus,
The years, the swift years! Wrinkles and imminent
Old age and death, whom no one conquers --
Piety cannot delay their onward
March.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Oh year by year, Póstumay,
Póstumay, time slips by,
And holiness can't stop us drying,
Or hold off death.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]How the years go by, alas how the years go by.
Behaving well can do nothing at all about it.
Wrinkles will come, old age will come, and death,
Indomitable. Nothing at all will work.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Alas! O Postumus, Postumus! Swiftly the years glide by, and no amount of piety will wrinkles delay or halt approaching age or ineluctable death.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Oh how the years fly, Postumus, Postumus,
they’re slipping away, virtue brings no respite
from the wrinkles that furrow our brow,
impending old age, Death the invincible.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
The uses of a dictionary: at thirteen we look up lewd, licentious, lascivious; at thirty, febrile and inchoate; at fifty, endostosis.
Mignon McLaughlin (1913-1983) American journalist and author
The Neurotic’s Notebook, ch. 10 (1963)
(Source)
What makes old age so sad is, not that our joys, but that our hopes then cease.
[Das Alter ist nicht trübe weil darin unsere Freuden, sondern weil unsere Hoffnungen aufhören.]
Jean Paul Richter (1763-1825) German writer, art historian, philosopher, littérateur [Johann Paul Friedrich Richter; pseud. Jean Paul]
Titan, Jubilee 6, cycle 34, “Fifth” (1803) [tr. Brooks (1863)]
(Source)
Man comes to each age of his life as a novice.
[L’homme arrive novice à chaque âge de la vie.]
Nicolas Chamfort (1741-1794) French writer, epigrammist (b. Nicolas-Sébastien Roch)
Products of Perfected Civilization [Produits de la Civilisation Perfectionnée], Part 2 “Characters and Anecdotes [Caractères et Anecdotes],” ch. 12 (1795) [tr. Merwin (1969)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Man arrives a novice at every age of life.
[ed. Mathews (1878)]Man reaches each stage in his life as a novice.
[tr. Hutchinson (1902), "The Cynic's Breviary"]A man begins every stage of his life as a novice.
[tr. Parmée (2003), ¶ 422]
So Life’s year begins and closes;
Days, though short’ning, still can shine;
What though youth gave love and roses,
Age still leaves us friends and wine.
Old Age, tho’ despised, is coveted by all Men.
Thomas Fuller (1654-1734) English physician, preacher, aphorist, writer
Gnomologia: Adages and Proverbs (compiler), # 3795 (1732)
(Source)
I am old now, or at least, I am no longer young, and everything I see reminds me of something else I’ve seen, such that I see nothing for the first time. A bonny girl, her hair fiery red, reminds me only of another hundred such lasses, and their mothers, and what they were as they grew, and what they looked like when they died. It is the curse of age, that all things are reflections of other things.
Neil Gaiman (b. 1960) British author, screenwriter, fabulist
“The Truth Is a Cave in the Black Mountains …”, Trigger Warning (2015)
(Source)
The first symptom is that hair grows on your ears. It’s very disconcerting.
Edward G. Robinson (1893-1973) American stage and film actor [b. Emanuel Goldenberg]
All My Yesterdays: An Autobiography, “Epilogue” (1973) [with Leonard Spigelgass]
(Source)
On growing old.
For the complete life, the perfect pattern, includes old age as well as youth and maturity. The beauty of the morning and the radiance of noon are good, but it would be a very silly person who drew the curtains and turned on the light in order to shut out the tranquility of the evening. Old age has its pleasures, which, though different, are not less than the pleasures of youth.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) English novelist and playwright [William Somerset Maugham]
The Summing Up, ch. 73 (1938)
(Source)
We take all things in a minor key as we grow older. There are few majestic passages in the later acts of life’s opera. Ambition takes a less ambitious aim. Honor becomes more reasonable and conveniently adapts itself to circumstances. And love — love dies. “Irreverence for the dreams of youth” soon creeps like a killing frost upon our hearts. The tender shoots and the expanding flowers are nipped and withered, and of a vine that yearned to stretch its tendrils round the world there is left but a sapless stump.
Jerome K. Jerome (1859-1927) English writer, humorist [Jerome Klapka Jerome]
Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow, “On Being In Love” (1886)
(Source)
The quoted line is from Longfellow, "The Ladder of St. Augustine."
When all sinnes grow old, coveteousnesse is young.
George Herbert (1593-1633) Welsh priest, orator, poet.
Jacula Prudentum, or Outlandish Proverbs, Sentences, &c. (compiler), # 18 (1640 ed.)
(Source)
Old age is like learning a new profession. And not one of your own choosing.
Jacques Barzun (1907-2012) French-American historian, educator, polymath
Quoted in Arthur Krystal, “Age of Reason,” The New Yorker (2007-10-15)
(Source)
Why do we get older? Why do our bodies wear out? Why can’t we just go on and on and on, accumulating a potentially infinite number of Frequent Flier mileage points? These are the kinds of questions that philosophers have been asking ever since they realized that being a philosopher did not involve any heavy lifting.
And yet the answer is really very simple: Our bodies are mechanical devices, and like all mechanical devices, they break down. Some devices, such as battery-operated toys costing $39.95, break down almost instantly upon exposure to the Earth’s atmosphere. Other devices, such as stereo systems owned by your next-door neighbor’s 13-year-old son who likes to listen to bands with names like “Nerve Damage” at a volume capable of disintegrating limestone, will continue to function perfectly for many years, even if you hit them with an ax. But the fundamental law of physics is that sooner or later every mechanism ceases to function for one reason or another, and it is never covered under the warranty.Dave Barry (b. 1947) American humorist, author, columnist
Dave Barry Turns 40, ch. 2 “Your Disintegrating Body” (1990)
(Source)
I’ve come up with a set of rules that describe our reactions to technologies:
- Anything that is in the world when you’re born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of the way the world works.
- Anything that’s invented between when you’re fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it.
- Anything invented after you’re thirty-five is against the natural order of things.
Douglas Adams (1952-2001) English author, humorist, screenwriter
The Salmon of Doubt, Part 2 “The Universe” (2002) [ed. Peter Guzzardi]
(Source)
Growing old is no more than a bad habit which a busy man has no time to form.
André Maurois (1885-1967) French author [b. Émile Salomon Wilhelm Herzog]
The Art of Living, ch. 8 “The Art of Growing Old” (1940) [tr. Whitall]
(Source)
The eazyest thing for our freinds to diskover in us, and the hardest thing for us to diskover in ourselfs, is that we are growing old.
[The easiest thing for our friends to discover in us, and the hardest thing for us to discover in ourselves, is that we are growing old.]
Josh Billings (1818-1885) American humorist, aphorist [pseud. of Henry Wheeler Shaw]
Everybody’s Friend, Or; Josh Billing’s Encyclopedia and Proverbial Philosophy of Wit and Humor, ch. 131 “Affurisms: Plum Pits (1)” (1874)
(Source)
When you’re forty, half of you belongs to the past — and when you’re seventy, nearly all of you —
Jean Anouilh (1910-1987) French dramatist
Léocadia [Time Remembered], Act 2, sc. 2 [Duchess] (1939) [tr. Moyes (1955)]
(Source)
Old minds are like old horses; you must exercise them if you wish to keep them in working order.
John Adams (1735–1826) American lawyer, Founding Father, statesman, US President (1797–1801)
(Attributed)
(Source)
Attributed by Josiah Quincy III, as described anecdotally in L. Maria Child's essay "Hints About Health," collected in her book Looking Toward Sunset: From Sources Old and New, Original and Selected (1865). Child describes Quincy attributing his own long life and acuity to the above advice given by Adams when Adams was asked how his mind was so vigorous in old age.
At one point I had this exchange sourced as being a letter from Adams to Quincy (1825-02-14). I am at present unable to find a record or reference online of such a letter.
Sometimes (perhaps due to the recipient's name), the quote is misattributed to Adams' son, John Quincy Adams.
In youth, the years stretch before one so long that it is hard to realize that they will ever pass, and even in middle age, with the ordinary expectation of life in these days, it is easy to find excuses for delaying what one would like to do but does not want to; but at last a time comes when death must be considered.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) English novelist and playwright [William Somerset Maugham]
The Summing Up, ch. 3 (1938)
(Source)
When young, we trust ourselves too much, and we trust others too little when old. Rashness is the error of youth, timid caution of age.
Charles Caleb "C. C." Colton (1780-1832) English cleric, writer, aphorist
Lacon: Or, Many Things in Few Words, Vol. 1, § 363 (1820)
(Source)
Because inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.
LADY BRACKNELL: Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years. Lady Dumbleton is an instance in point. To my own knowledge she has been thirty-five ever since she arrived at the age of forty, which was many years ago now.
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) Irish poet, wit, dramatist
The Importance of Being Earnest, Act 3 (1895)
(Source)
Little of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there’s nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. (1809-1894) American poet, essayist, scholar
Poem (1858-09), “The Deacon’s Masterpiece,” Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 4
(Source)
The poem appears in the middle of an installment of "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table", collected in Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, ch. 11 (1858).
Youth is a blunder; Manhood a struggle; Old Age a regret.
Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881) English politician and author
Coningsby: Or, The New Generation, Book 3, ch. 1 (1844)
(Source)
Old age is the most unexpected of all things that happen to a man.
Leon Trotsky (1879-1940) Russian politician, Marxist, intellectual, revolutionary [b. Lev Davidovich Bronstein]
Diary, Notebook 2 (1935-05-08) [tr. Zarudnaya (1958)]
(Source)
Years foll’wing Years, steal something ev’ry day,
At last they steal us from our selves away;
In one our Frolicks, one Amusements end,
In one a Mistress drops, in one a Friend:
This subtle Thief of Life, this paltry Time,
What will it leave me, if it snatch my Rhime?[Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes;
eripuere iocos, Venerem, convivia, ludum;
tendunt extorquere poemata: quid faciam vis?]Horace (65–8 BC) Roman poet, satirist, soldier, politician [Quintus Horatius Flaccus]
Epistles [Epistularum, Letters], Book 2, ep. 2 “To Julius Florus,” l. 55ff (2.2.55-57) (14 BC) [tr. Pope (1737)]
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(Source (Latin)). Other translations:Howbeit my wyt, which I haue had beginnes for to decay,
And ech yeare plucks away from me as it doth passe away.
My games, my iestes, my lustes, my feastes, from me they made to go,
And now would steale my poems to. what wouldste thou I should do?
[tr. Drant (1567)]I find I'm growing old, and every year
Steals somewhat from me; Venus, Mirth, and Chear,
Begin to lose their Gust; My Wits decline,
And my Poetick vein grows dry with time.
What e're I have been, I am scarse the same,
And will you have me dance now I am lame?
[tr. I. D.; ed. Brome (1666)]On me each circling Year does make a prey,
It steals my Humor, and my Mirth away.
And now at last would steal my Poems too
From my Embrace; what would You have me do?
[tr. Creech (1684)]The waning years apace
Steal off our thoughts, and rifle every grace.
Alas! already have they snatcht away
My jokes, my loves, my revellings, and play.
They strive to wrest my poems from me too,
Instruct me then what method to pursue.
[tr. Francis (1747)]Our joys steal from us, as the years roll on;
Mirth, music, love, and wine are well-nigh gone:
And poesy, 'ere many a sun be past, --
Sweet poesy must be resigned at last.
But what to write?
[tr. Howes (1845)]The advancing years rob us of every thing: they have taken away my mirth, my gallantry, my revelings, and play: they are now proceeding to force poetry from me. What would you have me do?
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Our years keep taking toll as they move on;
My feasts, my frolics are already gone,
And now, it seems, my verses must go too:
Bestead so sorely, what's a man to do?
[tr. Conington (1874)]Then, too, the years, they rob us, as they run,
Of all things we delight in, one by one;
Sport, love, feast, frolic they have wrenched away,
And verse will follow at no distant day.
Write! Ay, but what?
[tr. Martin (1881)]The rolling years rob us, one by one, of our possessions. They have taken away my jokes, loves, convivialities, sports. They strive to wrench from me my poetry. What do you wish me to write?
[tr. Elgood (1893)]The advancing years rob us of everything; they have taken from me jests, love, banquets and the sports; and now they proceed to take from me my poetry.
What then would you have me do?
[tr. Dana/Dana (1911)]The years, as they pass, plunder us of all joys, one by one. They have stripped me of mirth, love, feasting, play; they are striving to wrest from me my poems. What would you have me do?
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]The years revolving steal from us our powers:
My jests, loves, sports, my taste for festive hours
They’ve torn away; and now my poems, too,
They strive to wrest. What would you have me do?
[tr. Anon.; ed. Kramer, Jr. (1936)]Our pleasures steal off, one by one, with the years,
Which have already snatched my zest for laugyhter and love,
For playing and feasting. And now they're trying to twist
The poems loose from my hand. What can I do?
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]The passing years rob us of our pleasures one by one.
They've taken jokes and sex away, and games and dinners;
now they're clutching at my poems. How can I fight that?
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]One by one the years go by, and one by one they steal
Our pleasures: laughter, love, friendship, fun.
They're taking poetry too -- and what in God's name should I do?
[tr. Raffel (1983)]The years as they go by take everything with them,
One thing after another; they’ve taken away
Laughter, and revelry, and love from me, and now
They want to take poetry. What can I do?
[tr. Ferry (2001)]As the years go by they rob us of one thing after another.
Already they've taken fun, sex, parties and sport;
now they're pulling away my poems. What shall I do then?
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]The passing years steal one thing after another:
They’ve robbed me of fun, love, banquets, sport:
They’re trying to wrest my poems away: what next?
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Nothing so dates a man as to decry the younger generation.
Adlai Stevenson (1900-1965) American diplomat, statesman
Speech (1952-10-08), “The Area of Freedom,” University of Wisconsin, Madison
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The whiter my hair becomes, the more ready people are to believe what I say.
Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) English mathematician and philosopher
Interview by Woodrow Wyatt, BBC TV (1959)
Collected in Bertrand Russell's BBC Interviews (1959) [UK] and Bertrand Russell Speaks His Mind (1960) [US]. Reprinted (abridged) in The Humanist (1982-11/12), and in Russell Society News, #37 (1983-02).
Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith, “A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all nor be afraid!”Robert Browning (1812-1889) English poet
Poem (1864), “Rabbi Ben Ezra,” st. 1, Dramatis Personæ
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