You know growing old is like being increasingly penalized for a crime you haven’t committed.
Quotations about:
old age
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
Then Old Age said again, — Come, let us walk down the street together, — and offered me a cane, an eyeglass, a tippet, and a pair of over-shoes. — No, much obliged to you, said I. I don’t want those things, and I had a little rather talk with you here, privately, in my study. So I dressed myself up in a jaunty way and walked out alone; — got a fall, caught a cold, was laid up with a lumbago, and had time to think over this whole matter.
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.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) English novelist and playwright [William Somerset Maugham]
The Summing Up, ch. 73 (1934)
(Source)
O misery! misery! Time eats our lives,
And that dark Enemy who gnaws our hearts
Grows by the blood he sucks from us, and thrives.[Ô douleur ! ô douleur ! Le Temps mange la vie,
Et l’obscur Ennemi qui nous ronge le cœur
Du sang que nous perdons croît et se fortifie!]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Les Fleurs du Mal [The Flowers of Evil], # 10 “L’Ennemi [The Enemy],” st. 4 (1857) [tr. Squire (1909)]
(Source)
Also in 1861, 1868 eds. (Source (French)). Alternate translations:
Oh misery! -- Time devours our lives,
And the enemy black, which consumeth our hearts
On the blood of our bodies, increases and thrives!
[tr. Scott (1909)]
o grief! o grief! time eats away our lives,
and the dark Enemy gnawing at our hearts
sucks from our blood the strength whereon he thrives!
[tr. Shanks (1931)]
Oh, anguish, anguish! Time eats up all things alive;
And that unseen, dark Enemy, upon the spilled
Bright blood we could not spare, battens, and is fulfilled.
[tr. Millay (1936)]
Time swallows up our life, O ruthless rigour!
And the dark foe that nibbles our heart's root,
Grows on our blood the stronger and the bigger!
[tr. Campbell (1952)]
Alas! Alas! Time eats away our lives,
And the hidden Enemy who gnaws at our hearts
Grows by drawing strength from the blood we lose!
[tr. Aggeler (1954)]
Time and nature sluice away our lives.
A virus eats the heart out of our sides,
digs in and multiplies on our lost blood.
[tr. Lowell (1963), "The Ruined Garden"]
О grief! О grief! Time eats away life,
And the dark Enemy who gnaws the heart
Grows and thrives on the blood we lose.
[tr. Fowlie (1964)]
Time consumes existence pain by pain,
and the hidden enemy that gnaws our heart
feeds on the blood we lose, and flourishes!
[tr. Howard (1982)]
I cry! I cry! Life feeds the seasons' maw
And that dark Enemy who gnaws our hearts
Battens on blood that drips into his jaws!
[tr. McGowan (1993)]
Time eats at life: no wonder we despair.
Our enemy feeds on the blood we lose.
He gnaws our heart, and look how strong he grows.
[tr. Lerner (1999)]
O pain! pain! Time devours life and the dark Enemy that gnaws our heart grows, and grows strong, from the blood we let.
[tr. Waldrop (2006)]
Old age was growing inside me. It kept catching my eye from the depths of the mirror. I was paralyzed sometimes as I saw it make its way for me so steadily when nothing inside me was ready for it.
Simone de Beauvoir (1908-1986) French author, existentialist philosopher, feminist theorist
Force of Circumstance [La Force de Choses], Part 1 ch. 4 (1963) [tr. Howard (1965)]
(Source)
At age 41.
Neither lemonade nor anything else can prevent the inroads of old age. At present, I am stoical under its advances, and hope I shall remain so. I have but one prayer at heart; and that is, to have my faculties so far preserved that I can be useful, in some way or other, to the last.
Lydia Maria Child (1802-1880) American abolitionist, activist, journalist, suffragist
Letter to Harriet Seward (1869)
(Source)
PROFESSOR: What message do people generally send back when you first call on them?
OLD AGE: Not at home. Then I leave a card and go. Next year I call; get the same answer; leave another card. So for five or six, — sometimes ten years or more. At last, if they don’t let me in, I break in through the front door or the windows.
I don’t need you to remind me of my age, I have a bladder to do that for me.
Stephen Fry (b. 1957) British actor, writer, comedian
“Trefusis Returns!” Paperweight (1992)
(Source)
Originally printed in The Daily Telegraph (c. 1990).
OLD AGE: I make it a rule never to force myself upon a person’s recognition until I have known him at least five years.
PROFESSOR: Do you mean to say that you have known me so long as that?
OLD AGE: I do. I left my card on you longer ago than that, but I am afraid you never read it; yet I see you have it with you.
PROFESSOR: Where?
OLD AGE: There, between your eyebrows, — three straight lines running up and down; all the probate courts know that token, — “Old Age, his mark.” Put your forefinger on the inner end of one eyebrow, and your middle finger on the inner end of the other eyebrow; now separate the fingers, and you will smooth out my sign-manual; that’s the way you used to look before I left my card on you.
Better to sink beneath the shock
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!
I have begun in old age to understand just how oddly we are all put together. We are so proud of our autonomy that we seldom if ever realize how generous we are to ourselves, and just how stingy with others. One of the booby traps of freedom — which is bordered on all sides by isolation — is that we think so well of ourselves. I now see that I have helped myself to the best cuts at life’s banquet.
WORCESTER: For mine own part I could be well content
To entertain the lag end of my life
With quiet hours.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
Henry IV, Part 1, Act 5, sc. 1, l. 24 (5.1.24-26) (1597)
(Source)
Claudia Peregrina weds my Pudens.
Bless your torches, Hymen! Let them shine!
So aptly nard is mixed with cinnamon,
and Theseus’ honeycombs with Massic wine.
So well weak vines are joined to elms; the lotus
loves water thus, while myrtle loves the shore.
Fair Harmony, dwell always in their bed,
and Venus bless the couple evermore.
Let her still love him when he’s old someday;
may she seem young to him, even when she’s gray.[Claudia, Rufe, meo nubit Peregrina Pudenti:
Macte esto taedis, o Hymenaee, tuis.
Tam bene rara suo miscentur cinnama nardo,
Massica Theseis tam bene vina favis;
Nec melius teneris iunguntur vitibus ulmi,
Nec plus lotos aquas, litora myrtus amat.
Candida perpetuo reside, Concordia, lecto,
Tamque pari semper sit Venus aequa iugo:
Diligat illa senem quondam, sed et ipsa marito
Tum quoque, cum fuerit, non videatur anus.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 4, epigram 13 (4.13) (AD 89) [tr. McLean (2014)]
(Source)
Webb (below) notes that Claudia (based on ep. 4.53) may have been from Britain, hence the allusion to combining native (Massic) wine with foreign (Theseus' / Athenian) honey. Webb also notes the suggestion this Claudia and Pudens may be the ones mentioned in the New Testament's 2 Tim 4:21, though there is no connection other than the names.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Strange, Claudia's married to a friend of mine.
O Hymen, be thou ready with thy pine!
Thus the rare cinnamons with the spicknard joyne,
And the Thesean sweets with Massick wine.
Nor better does the elm and vine embrace,
Nor the lote-tree affect the fenny place.
Nor yet the myrtles more
Love and desire the shore.
Let a perpetual peace surround their bed,
And may their loves with equal fire be fed!
May she so love him old, that to him shee,
Though old indeed, may not seem so to bee.
[tr. Fletcher (1656)]
Perpetual harmony their bed attend,
And, Venus! still the well-match'd pair befriend!
May she, when Time has sunk him into years,
Love her old man, and cherish his white hairs;
Nor he perceive her charms through age decay,
But think each happy sun his bridal day.
[The Spectator, #506 (10 Oct 1712)]
Their nuptial bed may smiling Concord dress,
And Venus still the happy union bless!
Wrinkled with age, may mutual love and truth
To their dim eyes recall the bloom of youth.
[F. Lewis, The Rambler, #167 (22 Oct 1751)]
To Pudens see the beauteous Claudia vail:
Hail, charming torches! thrice, blest Hymen, hail!
So the rare cinnamon with spikenard blends:
So Massic blood Thesean combs distends.
Not more the elmlings on the vinelets dote;
On shores the myrtle, or on streams the lote.
Fair Concord, o'er their constant couch preside;
The dovelike yoke delighted Venus guide.
Him, spite of years, may she still lovely deem:
May she to him in youth perennial seem.
[tr. Elphinston (1782); Book 8, Part 2, ep. 16]
My friend Pudens marries Claudia Peregrina. O Hymen! be ready with your torches. As fitly is the rare cinnamon blended with nard, as fitly is the Massic wine mixed with Attic honey; nor more fitly are elms united with the tender vines; nor do rills love more the lotus, nor their banks the myrtle. Concord! garbed in white attire, reside always with that nuptial couch ! and may Venus be ever propitious to so suitable a marriage! After a lapse of years may Claudia love, as now, her then aged husband; and may she, even when she is old, not appear old in his eyes!
[tr. Amos (1858), "Connubial Felicity"]
Claudia Peregrina, Rufus, is about to be married to my friend Pudens. Be propitious, Hymen, with your torches. As fitly is precious cinnamon united with nard, and Massic wine with Attic honey. Nor are elms more fitly wedded to tender vines, the lotus more love the waters, or the myrtle the river's bank. May you always hover over their couch, fair Concord, and may Venus ever be auspicious to a couple so well matched. In after years may the wife cherish her husband in his old age; and may she, when grown old, not seem so to her husband.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
Here, Hymen, here thy blessings shed,
Bright burns thy torches' golden flame:
For Pudens doth with Claudia wed.
The Roman lord and British dame.
How seldom nard its odours sweet
And cinnamon combine so well;
Or Massic wines so fitly meet
With juice of Attic honey-cell!
Not with more grace do soft with brave --
Do tender vines with elms unite;
Nor better lotus loves the wave,
Or myrtles in their banks delight.
Fair on this marriage-couch the while,
A goddess bright, let Concord rest;
And kindly still may Venus smile
On mutual love of pair so blest.
Him may her warm affection cheer,
When youth on time's swift pinions flies;
And so may she, when age is near,
Seem never old to loving eyes.
[tr. Webb (1879)]
My Pudens shall his Claudia wed this day.
Shed, torch of Hymen, shed they brightest ray!
So costly nard and cinnamon combine,
So blends sweet honey with the luscious wine.
So clasps the tender vine her elm, so love
The lotus leaves the stream, myrtles the cove.
Fair Concord, dwell for ever by that bed;
Let Venus bless the pair so meetly wed;
May the wife love with love that grows not cold,
And never to her husband's eye seem old.
[tr. Smith (1893), "On a Friend's Wedding"]
Claudia Peregrina weds, Rufus, with my own Pudens; a blessing, O Hymenaeus, be upon thy torches! So well does rare cinnamon blend with its own nard; so well Massic wine with Attic combs. Not closer are elms linked to tender vines, nor greater love hath the lotos for the waters, the myrtle for the shore. Fair Concord, rest thou unbroken on that bed, and may kind Venus be ever kindly to a bond so equal knit! May the wife love her husband when anon he is grey, and she herself, even when she is old, seem not so to her spouse!
[tr. Ker (1919)]
Pudens to-day his Claudia doth claim
In love united,
A blessing, Hymen, on the twofold flame
Thy torch hath lighted.
These are as honey poured in rarest wine;
Could aught be meeter?
Not cinnamon with spikenard could combine
In fragrance sweeter.
Beside this tender vine her elm doth tower
His might to give her.
She is the myrtle sweet, the lotus flower,
And he her river.
Fair Concord ever o’er their lives preside
Unviolated;
Dear Venus bless the bridegroom and the bride
So fitly mated;
And may the coming years so far and dim
No change discover,
But she be loving still and fair to him,
Her grey-haired lover.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921), "An Epithalamium"]
Claudia's to marry Pudens, so they say.
God's blessing, Rufus, on their wedding day.
So cinnamon and spikenard will combine,
And Attic honey blend with Massic wine.
So with the vine the elm is mantled o'er,
So Lotus loves the wave, Myrtle the shore.
Unbroken union be their portion here
And Venus smile on wedded peer and peer.
May she still love him when her hair is grey,
To him as youthful as she is today.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), #164]
Hail to the wedding of Claudia Peregrina and my good friend Pudens!
Oh, Spirit of Marriage, bless the rite with your blazing torch!
We don't often find the best cinnamon allied with its companion nard,
or fine Massic wine with Athenian honey. Nor can the vines
be better wedded to the elms, the lotus more companionable
to the water, the myrtle to the stream it loves.
And so may clear understanding
and gracious agreement
ever dwell at their nuptial couch.
May she love him when he grows old
and seem in her husband's eyes as she does today
a young bride who never grows old.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]
Rufus, Claudia Peregrina marries my Pudens. A blessing, Hymen, on your torches! Even so happily is cinnamon mingled with its nard, even so happily Massic wines with Theseus' honeycombs. No more apt is the joining of elms with tender vines, nor does the lotus more love the waters or the myrtle the shore. Fair Harmony, dwell always in their bed and let Venus ever favor so well-matched a pair. Let her love him when one day he is old; but for her part, let her not seem old to her husband, even when old she is.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
My dear friend takes a wife, and we must light
The marriage torches that will bless this night
As sweet is joined with spicy, or as wine
Is soothed with honey, or as curling vine
Does climb and hang as close as close can be
Around the of its protective tree,
As waterlily floats in liquid rest,
Or rooted myrtle shines on shore its best --
So be they harmonized in wedded life.
Let Venus bless them both and ease all strife.
When they grow old, let her his ills assuage;
Let him not even recognize her age.
[tr. Wills (2007)]
Now Claudia to my Pudens comes a bride:
blessings on their Hymen torches!
Cinnamon blends well with cinnamon oil,
Massic with Attic honey blends.
Vine is not more closely twined to elm; no
myrtle more loves coast; lotus pool.
May constant Harmony attend their bed,
likewise Venus their like pledge.
Let her still love him old, and him not see
her old age come, though old she be.
[tr. Whigham (1987)]
KING OF FRANCE: For we are old, and on our quick’st decrees
Th’ inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can effect them.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
All’s Well That Ends Well, Act 5, sc. 3, l. 48ff (5.3.48-50) (1602?)
(Source)
But our machines have now been running for 70. or 80. years, and we must expect that, worn as they are, here a pivot, there a wheel, now a pinion, next a spring, will be giving way: and however we may tinker them up for awhile, all will at length surcease motion. Our watches, with works of brass and steel, wear out within that period.
Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826) American political philosopher, polymath, statesman, US President (1801-09)
Letter to John Adams (5 Jul 1814)
(Source)
Jefferson (and Adams) lived another 12 years, both dying on 4 July 1826.
Age is no second childhood — age makes plain,
Children we were, true children we remain.[Das Alter macht nicht kindisch, wie man spricht,
Es findet uns nur noch als wahre Kinder.]Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) German poet, statesman, scientist
Faust: a Tragedy [eine Tragödie], Part 1, sc. 2 “Prelude on the Stage” / “Prelude at the Theatre,” l. 212ff [Merryman] (1808-1829) [tr. Luke (1987)]
(Source)
The character is identified as Lustige Person in the original, translated in various English sources as Merryman, Merryfellow, Merry Andrew, Jester, Comedian, and Clown.
Some translations (and this site) include the Declaration, Prelude on the Stage, and Prologue in Heaven as individual scenes; others do not , leading to their Part 1 scenes being numbered three lower.
(Source (German)). Alternate translations:
Age makes not childish, as one oft avers;
It finds us still true children merely.
[tr. Priest (1808)]
Old age does not make childish, as men say; it only finds us still as true children.
[tr. Hayward (1831)]
Age does not make us childish, as folk say,
It finds us genuine children e'en in eld.
[tr. Swanwick (1850)]
Age does not make us childish, as they say,
But we are still true children when it finds us.
[tr. Brooks (1868)]
Age childish makes, they say, but ’tis not true;
We’re only genuine children still, in Age’s season!
[tr. Taylor (1870)]
Old age, not childish, makes the old; but they
Are genuine children of a mellower day.
[tr. Blackie (1880)]
Old age not childish makes, whate'er one says;
It only finds us still as very children.
[tr. Latham (1908)]
Age does not make us childish, as we're told,
It merely finds we are still young at heart.
[tr. Kaufmann (1961)]
They say that age makes people childish;
I say it merely finds us still true children.
[tr. Salm (1962)]
Old age does not make childish, as they claim,
It merely finds us genuine children yet.
[tr. Arndt (1976)]
Age doesn't make us childish, God knows,
Just finds us the same old children still.
[tr. Greenberg (1992)]
They say age makes us childish - but it can
Make truer children of us than before.
[tr. Williams (1999)]
Age doesn’t make us childish, as they say,
It finds that we’re still children.
[tr. Kline (2003)]
JAQUES: [O]ne man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
As You Like It, Act 2, sc. 7, l. 149ff (2.7.149-173) (1599)
(Source)
What’s old age for if not dispensing bullshit and calling it wisdom?
John Quincy Adams is well, sir; quite well, I thank you. But the house in which he lives at the present time is becoming dilapidated. It’s tottering upon its foundations. Time and the seasons have nearly destroyed it. Its roof is pretty well worn out. Its walls are much shattered and tremble with every wind. The old tenement is becoming almost uninhabitable, and I think John Quincy Adams will have to move out of it soon. But he himself is quite well, sir; quite well.
John Quincy Adams (1767-1848) US President (1825-29)
(Attributed)
(Source)
When, at eighty years old, he was asked by a passer-by on the street, "How is John Quincy Adams today?" The anecdote is found with some frequency c. 1900, about fifty years after Adams' death in 1848, at that age.
Gross and obscure natures, however decorated, seem impure shambles; but character gives splendor to youth, and awe to wrinkled skin and gray hairs.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) American essayist, lecturer, poet
“Beauty,” The Conduct of Life (1860)
(Source)
Old women will often bear the lack of food for two or three days. But take food from an athlete for a single day, he will implore the very Olympian Jupiter for whose honor he is in training, and will cry that he cannot bear it. Great is the power of habit.
[Aniculae saepe inediam biduum aut triduum ferunt; subduc cibum unum diem athletae: Iovem, Iovem Olympium, eum ipsum, cui se exercebit, implorabit, ferre non posse clamabit.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
Tusculan Disputations [Tusculanae Disputationes], Book 2, ch. 17 (2.17) / sec. 40 (45 BC) [tr. Peabody (1886)]
(Source)
Original Latin. Alternate translations:
Weak old Women oftentimes go without eating two or three days together; do but with-hold Meat one day from a Wrestler, he will cry out upon Olympian Jupiter; the same to whose Honor he shall exercise himself. He will cry he cannot bear it. Great is the Power of Custom.
[tr. Wase (1643)]
You may often hear of diminutive old women living without victuals three or four days; but take away a wrestler's provision for but one day, he will implore Jupiter Olympus, the very god for whom he exercises himself: he will cry out, It is intolerable. Great is the force of custom!
[tr. Main (1824)]
Tender old women often support a fast of two or three days. Withdraw his rations for one day from a wrestler; he will appeal to that Olympic Jove himself, for whom he exercises; he will cry out it impossible to bear it. Great is the force of habit.
[tr. Otis (1839)]
You may often hear of old women living without victuals for three or four days: but take away a wrestler's provisions but for one day, and he will implore the aid of Jupiter Olympius, the very God for whom he exercises himself: he will cry out that he cannot endure it. Great is the force of custom!
[tr. Yonge (1853)]
Feeble old women often endure hunger for two or three days. Take food away from an athlete for just one day. He will appeal to Jupiter, that Olympian Jupiter, the very one for whom he will be doing this training -- he will cry out that he can't bear it. Practice has great power.
[tr. Douglas (1990)]
Little old ladies often bear a two or three day period of fasting; but take away an athlete’s food for a day, and he will beg for relief from Jove! Olympian Jove, the one for whom he exercises! And he’ll tell you that he simply cannot bear it.
[tr. @sentantiq (2015)]
Old women regularly endure a lack of food for a period of three or four days; take from an athlete his food for a single day and he will appeal to olympian Jupiter, the very god in whose honor he trains, he will cry out that he can't bear it. The force of habit is considerable.
[tr. Davie (2017)]
It seems to me you have had enough of life when you have had your fill of all its activities. Little boys enjoy certain things, but older youths to not yearn for these. Young adulthood has its delights, but middle age does not desire them. There are also pleasures of middle age, but these are not sought in old age. And so, just as the pleasures of earlier ages fall away, so do those of old age. When this happens, you have had enough of life, and it is time for you to pass on.
[Omnino, ut mihi quidem videtur studiorum omnium satietas vitae facit satietatem. Sunt pueritiae studia certa: num igitur ea desiderant adulescentes? Sunt ineuntis adulescentiae: num ea constans iam requirit aetas, quae media dicitur? Sunt etiam eius aetatis: ne ea quidem quaeruntur in senectute. Sunt extrema quaedam studia senectutis: ergo, ut superiorum aetatum studia occidunt, sic occidunt etiam senectutis; quod cum evenit, satietas vitae tempus maturum mortis affert.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 20 / sec. 76 (20.76) (44 BC) [tr. Freeman (2016)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
And he that is full & replete of all the studyes & werkys perteynent to every age he is replete and wery of the tyme of this life so that he doubte not in no wise the deth as it seemyth me rightfully & as I preve it by my self. And note ye for a good advertisement to every man for to bere in remembraunce and for his prouffite. That certayne thyngys be wherin pueryce callid childhode which is the seconde age puttith his studye and his entendyng in thynges accordyng to his agrement. And the adolescente men whiche be undir the thidd age desyren in no wise the thynges and the besynes wherin puerice studyeth and occupyeth. And certeyne thynges be wherin the men studyen & occupyen them in begynnyng of their adolescencye. Also certayne thynges be in whiche yong age whiche is the fourth & the mene age puttith not his studye & besynesse in his precedent ages though the man had employed & occupied hym in the othir first ages which be smaller and of lesse degree. Yong age is callid the age stable & meane by cause that it holdith the meane betwixt adolescence & olde age And cesseth than the man for to do lighe thynges and folyes And as theene or nevir the man is stable & hole in body in witt & undirstōding the thynges and the werkys in whiche yong men studyen and occupye them been suche that olde men rek nevir of it. But namely olde age hath delectacyon in some thynges in his laste dayes wheryn he studyeth and employeth his wittys. How be it thenne that the studyes and the werkys of the fyve first ages dyen and seace in some tyme and seasons they in suche wise seacen and dyen in the besynesse studyes and the werkys of olde age whiche when they lacken in the man than he whiche is full and wery for to lyve in this worlde cometh to that tyme whiche is ripe and covenable for to dye.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]
But, methinks, satiety of all things causeth satiety of life. There are some fantastical and childish plays wherst young children in their childhood delight to play; shall, therefore, young men and tall fellows addict themselves to the same sembably? There are some exercises and affection swherein youthly years to enure themselves: shall the ripe and constant age (which si called the middle age of man) look to play at the same? And if this middle age there are some studies, wills, and appetites which old age careth not for. And there be some studies and exercises belonging and appropriate to old age . And therefore as the pleasure and delight of the studies and exercises in fresher and lustier ages doth in time wear away and come to an end, so doth the studies of old age in continuance and tract of time also die and vanish. And when this pleasuyre and delightful contentation begin in old men once to decrease, then doth satiety of life bring to them a convenable and mature time to die.
[tr. Newton (1569)]
Truly me thinks that the satiety of all things makes also a satiety of life. There are certain studies in children, shall young men desire them? there are others in youth, shall age require them? and there be studies in the last age: therefore as the studies of former ages fail, so do the studies of old age, so that when the satiety or fulnesse of life commeth, it bringeth also a fit time for death.
[tr. Austin (1648), ch. 21]
Satiety from all things else doth come,
Then life must to it self grow wearisome.
Those Trifles wherein Children take delight,
Grow nauseous to the young man's appetite,
And from those gaieties our youth requires,
To exercise their minds, our age retires.
And when the last delights of Age shall die,
Life in it self will find satietie.
[tr. Denham (1669)]
There are in every Stage of Life, peculiar Pleasures and Diversions, in the Pursuit of which we are employed. And as, when Boys, we are tired with such things, as pleased our Infant State, and, when advanced to a riper Age, we still grow weary of our former Diversions; so Old Age itself has its peculiar Enjoyments. Therefore, as all the several Delights, of all our different Ages, decay and grow insipid, those f our latest Years will likewise fail, and make us loath and reject them, till at last, well satisfied with Length of Days, we fall our selves, ass if it were full ripe, and fit to drop into another World.
[tr. Hemming (1716)]
'Tis a Rule with me, That the Fulness of all Things makes the Fullness of Life. Children have their Desires; must young people have the same? In some certain Studies delight Youth, must the Middle-aged too require the same? The Middle-aged have their Foibles; but they are not pursued by the Old; but Old Age has also its favourite Amusements of some Sort of other; and as the Studies of former Ages fall off from us, so do those of our Old Age at last fail us: And when that happens, then the fullness of Life brings on the fit and seasonable Moment for Death.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]
By living long we come to a Satiety in all things besides and this should naturally lead us to a Satiety of Life itself. Children we see have their particular Diversions; and does Youth, when past Childhood, pursue or desire the same? Youth also has its peculiar Exercises; and does full Manhood require these as before? Or has Old Age the same Inclinations that prevailed in more vigorous Years? We ought then to conclude, That as there is a Succession of Pursuits and Pleasures in the several Stages of Life, the one dying away, as the other advances and takes Place; so in the same Manner are those of Old Age to pass off in their Turn. And when this Satiety of Life has fully ripen'd us, we are then quietly to lie down in Death, as our last Resting-Place, where all Anxiety ends, and Cares and Fears subsist no more.
[tr. Logan (1744)]
The distaste with which, in passing through the several stages of our present being, we leave behind us the respective enjoyments peculiar to each; must necessarily, I should think, in the close of its latest period, render life itself no longer desirable. Infancy and youth, manhood and old age, have each of them their peculiar and appropriate pursuits. But does youth regret the toys of infancy, or manhood lament that no longer as a taste for the amusements of youth? The season of manhood has also its suitable objects, that are exchanged for others in old age; and these too, like all the preceding, become languid and insipt in their turn. Now when this state of absolute satiety is at length arrived; when we have enjoyed the satisfactions peculiar to old age, till we have no longer any relish remaining for them; it is then that death may justly be considered as a mature an seasonable event.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]
In every view of it, as seems to me at least, a satiety of all pursuits produces satiety of life. Doubtless there are pursuits peculiar to boyhood; do then young men long for these? There are also pursuits proper to commencing adolescence; does that time of olife which is now settled, and is called middle-age, require them? There are also pursuits that belong to this latter period; those even are not sought after by old age. There are also certain pursuits of old age, which are the last; therefore as the pursuits of the former stages cease, so also to those of old age. And when this has come to pass, satiety of life brings on the ripe time of death.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]
On the whole, as it seems to me indeed, a satiety of all pursuits causes a satiety of life. There are pursuits peculiar to boyhood; do therefore young men regret the loss of them? There are also some of early youth; does that now settled age, which is called middle life, seek after these? There are also some of this period; neither are they looked for by old age. There are some final pursuits of old age; accordingly, as the pursuits of the earlier parts of life fall into disuse, so also do those of old age; and when this has taken place, satiety of life brings on the seasonable period of death.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]
In fine, satiety of life, as it seems to me, creates satiety of pursuits of every kind. There are certain pursuits belonging to boyhood; do grown-up young men therefore long for them? There are others appertaining to early youth; are they required in the sedate period of life which we call middle age? This, too, has its own pursuits, and they are not sought in old age. As the pursuits of earlier periods of life fail, so in like manner do those of old age. When this period is reached, satiety of life brings a season ripe for death.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]
As a general truth, as it seems to me, it is weariness of all pursuits that creates weariness of life. There are certain pursuits adapted to childhood: do young men miss them? There are others suited to early manhood: does that settled time of life called "middle age" ask for them? There are others, again, suited to that age, but not looked for in old age. There are, finally, some which belong to old age. Therefore, as the pursuits of the earlier ages have their time for disappearing, so also have those of old age. And when that takes place, a satiety of life brings on the ripe time for death.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]
To put it in a word, it seems to me
'Tis weariness of all pursuits that makes
A weary age. We have pursuits as boys,
Do young men want them? Others yet there are
Suited to growing years, are they required
By those who've reached what's termed "the middle age"?
That too enjoys its own, but are they fit
For us old me? We have our own of course,
And as the others end, just so do ours,
And when it happens, weariness of life
Proclaims that ripeness which precedes our death.
[tr. Allison (1916)]
Undoubtedly, as it seems to me at least, satiety of all pursuits causes satiety of life. Boyhood has certain pursuits: does youth yearn for them? Early youth has its pursuits: does the matured or so-called middle stage of life need them? Maturity, too, has such as are not even sought in old age, and finally, there are those suitable to old age. Therefore as the pleasures and pursuits of the earlier periods of life fall away, so also do those of old age; and when that happens man has his fill of life and the time is ripe for him to go.
[tr. Falconer (1923)]
From a more general point of view, it seems to me that once we have had our fill of all the things that have engaged our interest, we have had our fill of life itself. There are interests that are proper to childhood: does a full-grown man regret their loss? There are interests that belong to early manhood: when we reach full maturity -- what is called “middle age” -- do we look back to them with longing? Middle age itself has its special concerns; even these have lost their attraction for the old. Finally, there are interests peculiar to old age; these fall away, too, just as did those of the earlier years. When this has happened, a sense of the fullness of life tells us that it is time to die.
[tr. Copley (1967)]
When we are children, we have childish interests, but do young men miss them? And when we are middle-aged, do we want what young men want? Similarly, old men are not remotely involved in the needs of middle age; they have their own. Therefore we may argue that as the concerns of each earlier stage of life fade away, so eventually do those of old age. And when that happens, we have had enough of life and we are ready for death.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]
Then too, I think I can safely say that when the point arrives where you have had enough of life's pursuits -- this isn't boredom but more a fullness or satisfaction -- then you have also had enough of life. There are certain pursuits of childhood which teenagers don't miss, do they? And stable, middle aged adults don't go running after the pursuits of teens, do they? And there are some interests of our middle years. therefore, just as we do not fear or regret when the pursuits of earlier stages fall away, so too the thinking person does not regret the passing of the interests of old age. And when this happens, the fullness of life brings about the time which is ripe for death.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]
The fulfilment of all desires,
At least it seems to me, kills all life’s bliss,
And childhood certainly requires
Interests that young people do not miss,
And the tastes of youth’s initial stage
Won’t be sought after in middle age
Whose pursuits seem to be cheerless
To those in their elderliness.
Therefore as the previous life’s urges
Will set like the Sun so will old age’s.
Once life has had its fill there comes the day
On which one may suitably pass away.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]
Therefore, when the young die I am reminded of a strong flame extinguished by a torrent; but when old men die it is as if a fire had gone out without the use of force and of its own accord, after the fuel had been consumed; and, just as apples when they are green are with difficulty plucked from the tree, but when ripe and mellow fall of themselves, so, with the young, death comes as a result of force, while with the old it is the result of ripeness. To me, indeed, the thought of this “ripeness” for death is so pleasant, that the nearer I approach death the more I feel like one who is in sight of land at last and is about to anchor in his home port after a long voyage.
[Itaque adulescentes mihi mori sic videntur, ut cum aquae multitudine flammae vis opprimitur, senes autem sic, ut cum sua sponte nulla adhibita vi consumptus ignis exstinguitur; et quasi poma ex arboribus, cruda si sunt, vix evelluntur, si matura et cocta, decidunt, sic vitam adulescentibus vis aufert, senibus maturitas; quae quidem mihi tam iucunda est, ut, quo propius ad mortem accedam, quasi terram videre videar aliquandoque in portum ex longa navigatione esse venturus.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 19 / sec. 71 (19.71) (44 BC) [tr. Falconer (1923)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
And by that the adolescentes & yong men as me semyth dyen like as old men which quencheth a strong & a right grete fflame of fyre by castyng in of moche watir, and olde men dyen as a fyre which stynteth and wasteth itself or as a candel & the matche in a lampe of oyle consumith withoute doyng violence & withoute any force & strength. I make eftsonys anothir comparison of deth whiche comyth both to yong & olde men ffor as the appils & othir fruytes hangyng on the trees be by force plucked in the meanetyme whiles they be rawe & newe & when they be ripe & melowe by the heete of the sonne they fallen of with their free & playne will & so the deth takith awey by hir violente force the life of yong men and the ripnesse of olde age takith awey the life of olde men softely and withoute force. And this deth whiche comith by ripnesse of long age is so ioyfull and so agreable to me in so moche as I shall applye and come more nygh to it in a convenient season. The deth is also to me noon othirwise ioyfull or agreable than shuld be to me the deye londe if me thought that I shulde see it when I seyle in a ship or swymme in the see to the porte or havyn. And that it were likly that I shuld come to the porte or havyn aftir that I have sey∣led and vyaged long upon the see. That is to witt that deth which comith to the wise man aftir long age is like the porte or haven that men see from ferr in seylyng upon the see whiche doth grete ioye when men be upon the river into the haven warde and to have takyn their porte salve ffor the drede of the parelles and dangers of rokkes sandys and grete tempestys be than passid chaungid and turned in saftee and rest.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]
Therefore, young men, in mine opinion, seem so to die as when a raging and violent flame of fire is quenched, with a great quantity or effusion of water; but old men die as if it were fire, which, lacking wood and cumbustible matter to nourish it, goeth out quietly and is quenched, as though it were of his own accord, not forcibly. And as apples which are green and unripe are not plucked from the tree but by a certain violent plucking, but if they be ripe and mellow they fall voluntarily down from teh tree; so likewise, young men depart out of their life by violent force and painful struggling, but old men die by a certain ripeness and maturity. And as often as I think thereon, I am rapt with such joy and comfort, that the nearer I draw and approach to death, the sooner, methink, I see the dry land, and (as it were, afer a long navigation and seafaring voyage) shall at length arrive at the quiet haven ahd port of all rest and security.
[tr. Newton (1569)]
Therefore a young man seemeth to me to die like fire put out with water, but old men like fire which being put out by no force, is quietly consumed of it selfe; and as apples on trees being not ripe, are plucked of by violence, but being ripe they fall of themselves: so force taketh away the life of young men, but ripenesse of age the life of old men: which consideration is so pleasant to me, that I seem to behold the earth, as a quiet port, whither after a long and troublesome navigation I shall arrive.
[tr. Austin (1648), ch. 21]
All things which Nature did ordain, are good,
And so must be receiv'd, and understood,
Age, like ripe Apples, on earth's bosom drops,
Whil'st force our youth, like fruits untimely crops;
The sparkling flame of our warm blood expires,
As when huge streams are pour'd on raging fires,
But age unforc'd falls by her own consent,
As Coals to ashes, when the Spirit's spent;
Therefore to death I with such joy resort,
As Seamen from a Tempest to their Port.
[tr. Denham (1669)]
For this Reason, I think it not so improper, to compare the Death of Youth to Flames extinguished, by a violent and suddain Splash of Water; and that of Riper Years, to such a Fire, as without any Violence, goes out, when all its Fewel is decayed and spent. And as Fruit, when it is green, is torn and plucked with Violence from the Boughs, which, when become more ripe and mellow, falls gently of it self: so Youth departs this Life with Violent Strugles, while Old Age drops off mature with Years. And indeed the Prospect of this is so far from being unpleasant, that the nearer it is, the more delightful does it seem: nor is it less grateful, than the Sight of land can be to one, quite tired with a long and tedious Voyage.
[tr. Hemming (1716)]
Thus the Youthful seem, I think, to die like Fire forcibly quench'd with Water, whereas the Aged go smoothly off, and like the Fire burnt to the last Spark, need no Force to be extinguished; or as green Fruit which must be plucked from the Trees, but when ripe falls off it self. Thus do the Young die with Repugnancy, and the Old fall with Maturity. So that Life becomes the pleasanter to me, the nearer I approach its End, thinking to myself the Earth is my Harbour, into which I shall arrive, after a long and tedious Voyage.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]
For Young Men seem to be forced from Life, as Fires are extinguished by great Quantities of Water thrown on them; when on the contrary, Old Men expire of themselves, like a Flame when all its Fuel is spent. And as unripe Fruit requires some Force to part it from its native Bough; but when come to full Maturity, it drops of itself, without any Hand to touch it: So Young People die by something violent or unnatural; but the Old by mere Ripeness. The Thoughts of which to me are now become so agreeable, that the nearer I draw to my End, it seems like discovering the Land at Sea, that, after the Tossings of a tedious and stormy Voyage, will yield me a safe and quiet Harbour.
[tr. Logan (1744)]
In the latter instance [youth]; the privation of life may be resembled to a fire forcibly extinguished by a deluge of water; in the former [an old man], to a fire spontaneously and gradually going out from a total consumption of its fuel. Or, to have recourse to another illustration; as fruit before it is ripe cannot, without some degree of force, be separated from the stalk, but drops of itself when perfectly mature; so the disunion of the soul and body is effected in the young by dint of violence, but is wrought in the old by a mere fullness and completion of years. This ripeness for death I perceive in myself with much satisfaction; and I look forward to my dissolution as to a secure haven, where I shall at length find a happy repose from the fatigues of a long voyage.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]
Therefore young men seem to me to die just as when the force of flame is suddenly overpowered by a mass of water; but old men, just as fire that is spent is extinguished of itself, no violence having been applied to it. And, as apples are pulled from trees by force, if they are unripe; if ripe and mellowed, they fall down; so force takes away life from young men, maturity from old men; which maturity to me, indeed, is so pleasant, that the nearer I approach to death, I seem, as it were, to behold land, and to be about to come, at length, into port form a long voyage.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]
And thus it is that young men seem to me to die, just as when the violence of flame is extinguished by a flood of water; whereas old men die, as the exhausted fire goes out, spontaneously, without the exertion of any force: and as fruits when they are green are plucked by force from the trees, but when ripe and mellow drop off, so violence takes away their lives from youths, maturity from old men; a state which to me indeed is so delightful, that the nearer I approach to death, I seem as it were to be getting sight of land, and at length, after a long voyage, to be just coming into harbour.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]
Thus young men seem to me to die as when a fierce flame is extinguished by a stream of water; while old men die as when a spent fire goes out of its own accord, without force employed to quench it. Or, as apples, if unripe, are violently wrenched from the tree, while, mature and ripened, they fall, so force takes life from the young, maturity from the old; and this ripeness of old age is to me so pleasant, that, in proportion as I draw near to death, I seem to see land, and after a long voyage to be on the point of entering the harbor.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]
Accordingly, the death of young men seems to me like putting out a great fire with a deluge of water; but old men die like a fire going out because it has burnt down of its own nature without artificial means. Again, just as apples when unripe are torn from trees, but when ripe and mellow drop down, so it is violence that takes life from young men, ripeness from old. This ripeness is so delightful to me, that, as I approach nearer to death, I seem as it were to be sighting land, and to be coming to port at last after a long voyage.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]
The death of the young seems to me to resemble the sudden extinction of a flame with volumes of water; the old seem rather to die as a fire which flickers out of itself.
[ed. Harbottle (1906)]
To them it comes
It seems to me, as when a fire is quenched
By streams of water: to the old it comes
As when a fire dies slowly down itself:
Just so the apples, when unripe, are torn
With violence from the boughs: if ripe with age
They gently fall: and so the life of youth
Is taken by some violent attack;
The old man's troublous age comes gently to an end.
To me this seems so pleasant, that I feel
The nearer that I draw towards the end,
I sight the land, and see before my eyes
The harbour waiting to receive the bark
Which long as voyaged on the toilsome sea.
[tr. Allison (1916)]
It seems to me that the death of a young man is like the drowning of a blazing flame by a flood of water, whereas the death of the old is like the gradual, utterly gentle and spontaneous flickering out of a fire that has used up its fuel. Fruits, too, if they are green, must be forcefully pulled from the bough, but if they are ripe and mellow, they drop off. So it is with the life of man: from the young, it is taken by violence, from the old, by the fullness of time. This is a thought that gives me great comfort; as I come closer and closer to death, I seem, so to speak, to see the land and to be at last about to come into harbor after a long sea-journey.
[tr. Copley (1967)]
Death at an early age seems to me like a fire that has suddenly been swamped by a bucket of water; but death in old age is like a fire that has not been extinguished but has gone out of its own accord, because it has used up all its fuel. When an apple is not yet ripe, it takes some work to tug it off the branch; but when it is fully ripe, it simply falls to the ground. In the same way, though some act of violence may snatch life from the young, the old are ready to die. And that to me is a pleasant thought -- so much so that the nearer I get to death, the more I feel like a sailor who, after a long voyage, has made landfall and is about to tie up in his home port.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]
When a young person dies, it seems to me to be like a vigorous flame being put out by a fire hose; with old people, on the other hand, the flame is extinguished, having burned itself out on its own accord with no violent outside force. When unripe apples are plucked from trees it takes real force, but the mature and mellow ones fall gently and naturally. Violence carries life away from the young, from the old it is ripeness. And, you know, the ripeness is so pleasant to me that the nearer I approach death, the more I see it as land and that at last I am about to come into port after a long voyage.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]
Therefore young people, it seems to me, pass
Away like tall flames put out by a large mass
Of water while old men die out like the fumes
Of an unquenchable fire which consumes
Itself without recourse to another force.
And just as unripe fruits are hard to pluck
From the trees to which they’re closely stuck,
But once mature and fully grown
Drop down to the ground on their own,
So young lives are cut down by ferocity
While old ones are spent by maturity.
A maturity to me so suave
The nearer I get to the grave.
It also seems to me as though
I were almost shouting land-ho!
On reaching the port of destination
After a very long navigation.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]
A young person dying reminds me of a fire extinguished by a deluge. But when an old person dies, it is like a flame that diminishes gradually and flickers away of its own accord with no force applied after its fuel has been used up. In the same way, green apples are hard to pick from a tree, but when ripe and ready they fall to the ground by themselves. So death comes to the young with force, but to the old when the time is right. To me there is great comfort in this idea, so that as death grows nearer, the more I feel like a traveler who at last sees the land of his home port after a long voyage.
[tr. Freeman (2016)]
In a word, enjoy that blessing while you have it: when it is gone, do not lament it; unless, indeed, young men ought to lament the loss of boyhood, and those a little advanced in age the loss of adolescence.
[Denique isto bono utare, dum adsit, cum absit, ne requiras: nisi forte adulescentes pueritiam, paulum aetate progressi adulescentiam debent requirere.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 10 / sec. 33 (10.33) (44 BC) [tr. Edmonds (1874)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Finally I tell the thou oughtist use of the bodily strength as whiche is one of the goodys of nature in the meane tyme whan thou hast them. But whan the goodys of bodily strength ben no more in thee thenne thou shuldist not require it nor aske it save that thou maist saye paraventure that the adolescentys which ben in the third age owghten to desyre & aske after the age of pueryce which is seconde age & by that he is the ferthir from deth. Therfor I tell the Scipion that when men ben somwhat entrid & come within adolescence which is an age fructuouse and profitable they to require it and to aske it. And not puerice called Childhode whiche is withoute availe and profite.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481), Part 3]
In fine, use and take well in worth this gift of bodily strength while thou hast it, and when it is gone do not desire nor seek to have it again, unless peradventure you will say that all young men ought to wish themselves in their infancy and swathing-bands again, or when they be somewhat further stricken in years and in the maturity or best time of their age, to wish themselves again in their adolescency.
[tr. Newton (1569)]
To conclude, use that strength which you have while you have it; but when it is gone, require it not, unlesse you thinke it a seemly thing of young men, to require their child-hood againe, and ancient men their youth.
[tr. Austin (1648)]
The force which Nature gives with care retain,
But when decay'd, 'tis folly to complain;
In age to wish for youth is full as vain,
As for a youth to turn a child again.
[tr. Denham (1669)]
The Faculties of our Bodies are to be made use of, while we possess them, but not to be lamented, when they have left us; unless you would think it reasonable that Boys should be desirous to become Children, and that those, who are become Men, should be wishing to grow Boys again.
[tr. Hemming (1716)]
In short, make use of any Good while you have it, and when it's gone look not for it, unless you think young Men would do right to require Childhood again, or Men in Years their Youth.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]
In short, while you have Strength, use it; when it leaves you, no more repine for the want of it, than you did when Lads, that your Childhood was past; or at the Years of Manhood, that you were no longer Boys.
[tr. Logan (1750)]
In a word, my friends, make a good use of your youthful vigour so long as it remains; but never let it cost you a sign when age shall have withdrawn it from you; as reasonably indeed might youth regret the loss of infancy, or manhood the extinction of youth.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]
In a word, make use of that good thing while it is present; when it is absent do not regret it; unless, perhaps, young men ought to seek to be boys again; those who have made a little advance in years, to be young men again.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]
In fine, I would have you use strength of body while you have it: when it fails, I would not have you complain of its loss, unless you think it fitting for young men to regret their boyhood, or for those who have passed on a little farther in life to want their youth back again.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]
In fine, enjoy that blessing when you have it; when it is gone, don't wish it back -- unless we are to think that young men should wish their childhood back, and those somewhat older their youth!
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]
Use then the gifts you have:
When gone, regret them not: unless as men
You are to ask for boyhood to return,
When older ask for you: there still must be
A certain lapse of years.
[tr. Allison (1916)]
In short, enjoy the blessing of strength while you have it and do not bewail it when it is gone, unless, forsooth, you believe that youth must lament the loss of infancy, or early manhood the passing of youth.
[tr. Falconer (1923)]
To sum it up: use the advantages you have while you have them; when they are gone, don’t sit around wishing you could get them back. Or do you think, perhaps, that young men ought to mourn their lost boyhood, and those a bit older their younger days?
[tr. Copley (1967)]
Use whatever gifts you have while you have them, and don’t mope after them when they are gone -- unless of course you think that young men should regret their childhood and that those who are getting on should regret their youth.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]
So to put it in a nutshell
Use your own strength and use it well
As long as it lasts and when it is spent
Just forget it unless you should
Think that boyhood regrets childhood
Or that manhood may its decline lament.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]
In short, enjoy the blessing of bodily strength while you have it, but don't mourn when it passes away, any more than a young man should lament the end of boyhood, or a mature man the passing of youth.
[tr. Freeman (2016)]
I want to tell people approaching and perhaps fearing old age that it is a time of discovery. If they say, “Of what?” I can only answer, “We must find out for ourselves, otherwise it wouldn’t be discovery.”
Every old man complains of the growing depravity of the world, of the petulance and insolence of the rising generation. He recounts the decency and regularity of former times, and celebrates the discipline and sobriety of the age in which his youth was passed; a happy age which is now no more to be expected, since confusion has broken in upon the world, and thrown down all the boundaries of civility and reverence.
Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) English writer, lexicographer, critic
The Rambler, #50 (8 Sep 1750)
(Source)
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)
You do not play then at whist, sir! Alas, what a sad old age you are preparing for yourself!
[Vous ne jouez donc pas le whist, monsieur? Hélas! quelle triste vieilesse vous vous préparez!]
The latter part of a wise man’s life is taken up in curing the follies, prejudices, and false opinions he had contracted in the former.
Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) English writer and churchman
“Thoughts on Various Subjects” (1706)
(Source)
What one has, one ought to use; and whatever he does he should do with all his might.
[Quod est, eo decet uti: et quicquid agas, agere pro viribus.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 9 / sec. 27 (9.27) (44 BC) [ed. Hoyt (1882)]
(Source)
On failing strength in old age.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
A man ought wele for to use in every age of that thyng that nature giveth hym, and also it apperteyneth that thou doo alle thyngs aftir the mesure and aftir the quantyte of thyne owne propre strength and not to usurpe and take the unto gretter thyngs than thou maist not nor hast no power to execute.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]
For whatsoever is engraffed naturally in man, that is it fit and decent to use; and in all things that he taketh in hand to labour, and to do his diligent endeavour according to his strength.
[tr. Newton (1569)]
For that which is naturally ingraffed in a man, that it becommeth him to use, and to desire to do nothing above his strength.
[tr. Austin (1648)]
Then with that force content, which Nature gave,
Nor am I now displeas'd with what I have.
[tr. Denham (1669)]
What strength and vigour, we have still remaining, ought to be preserv'd, by making the best use of them while we are able.
[tr. Hemming (1716)]
What a Man has, he ought to use; and whatever he does, to do it according to his Power.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]
For it is our business only to make the best use we can of the powers granted us by nature, and whatever we take in hand, to do it with all our might.
[tr. Logan (1750)]
It is sufficient if we exert with spirit, upon every proper occasion, that degree of strength which still remains with us.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]
What is, that it becomes you to employ; and whatever you do, to do it according to the measure of your powers.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]
What one has, that one ought to use; and whatever you do, you should do it with all your strength.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]
It is becoming to make use of what one has, and whatever you do, to do in proportion to your strength.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]
You should use what you have, and whatever you may chance to be doing, do it with all your might.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1900)]
What nature gives to man, that let him use:
Still fit your work according to your strength.
[tr. Allison (1916)]
Such strength as a man has he should use, and whatever he does should be done in proportion to his strength.
[tr. Falconer (1923)]
Use what you have: that is the right way; do what’s to be done in proportion as you have the strength for it.
[tr. Copley (1967)]
Whatever strength you have at any given moment, you should use; and whatever you do, you should do it within the limitations of that strength.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]
You use what you have and gauge your activities accordingly.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]
You see, It’s a lot better to proceed
With your own strength and anything you do
According to your strength you should pursue.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]
Knowledge is a comfortable and necessary retreat and shelter for us in an advanced age; and if we do not plant it while young, it will give us no shade when we grow old.
Lord Chesterfield (1694-1773) English statesman, wit [Philip Dormer Stanhope]
Letter to his son, #133 (11 Dec 1747)
(Source)
People who live long, who will drink of the cup of life to the very bottom, must expect to meet with some of the usual dregs.
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) American statesman, scientist, philosopher, aphorist
Letter to M. Le Veillard (15 Apr 1787)
(Source)
Autumn is really the best of the seasons: and I’m not sure that old age isn’t the best part of life. But of course, like Autumn, it doesn’t last.
What the object of senile avarice may be I cannot conceive. For can there be anything more absurd than to seek more journey money, the less there remains of the journey?
[Avaritia vero senilis quid sibi velit, non intellego. Potest enim quicquam esse absurdius quam, quo viae minus restet, eo plus viatici quaerere?]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 18 / sec. 65 (18.65) (44 BC) [tr. Shuckburgh (1900)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Also I may not consceyue nor understande why avaryce & covetyse ought to be in an olde man for ther is no thyng more unreasonable nor more folyssh then is for to hepe gretter quantite of wordily goodes or of vitailles in the tyme when the man hath lesse wey for to endure & lyve.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]
But as for the avarice and covetousness of old men, I am not acquainted therewith, neither do I know what it meaneth. For what can be more absurd or repugnant to all reason than for a wayfaring man, when his journey is now almost dispatched and brought to an end, and hath but little way to go, to provide and furnish himself with the more victuals, and the shorter that his journey is, the more to seek and purvey for costage?
[tr. Newton (1569)]
But as for covetousnesse in age, I know not what it meanes; for there can be no greater absurdity, then when the journey is almost done, to take care to provide much more provision.
[tr. Austin (1648), ch. 19]
Of Age's avarice I cannot see
What colour, ground, or reason there should be,
Is it not folly? when the way we ride
Is short, for a long voyage to provide.
[tr. Denham (1669)]
As for Covetousness, and an eager Desire to heap up Riches in this World, when we are about to leave it, I must own, I know not what to make of it. For what in Nature can be more absurd, than to b e anxiously intent in making Provisions for our Journey, when we are almost at the End of it?
[tr. Hemming (1716)]
As to Covetousness, what it can profit an Old Man I am at a Loss to imagine. For what in Life can be more absurd, than to overstock ourselves with Provision, when we are nigh our Journey's End?
[tr. J. D. (1744)]
What covetousness in old men can mean, I must own, I cannot comprehend; for can any thing be more senselessly absurd, than that the nearer we are to our journey's end, we should still lay in the more provision for it.
[tr. Logan (1750)]
As to avarice, it is inconceivable for what purpose that passion should find admittance into an old man's breast. For surely nothing can be more irrational and absurd than to increase our provision for the road, the nearer we approach to our journey's end.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]
But, as for avarice in an old man, I cannot understand what it purposes. For can anything be more absurd than to seek the more provisions the less remains of the journey?
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]
What avarice in an old man can propose to itself I cannot conceive: for can anything be more absurd than, in proportion as less of our journey remains, to seek a greater supply of provisions?
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]
Avarice in old age is foolish; for what can be more absurd than to increase our provisions for the road the nearer we approach to our journey's end.
[Common English translation (e.g. (1873))]
As for senile avarice, I do not understand what it means; for can anything be more foolish than, in proportion as there is less of the way to travel, to seek the more provision for it?
[tr. Peabody (1884)]
As to greediness, I do not know
What it can mean. Can aught be more absurd
Than that as life draws to a close, we seek
More money to assist our journey's end?
[tr. Allison (1916)]
As for avariciousness in the old, what purpose it can serve I do not understand, for can anything be more absurd in the traveler than to increase his luggage as he nears his journey's end?
[tr. Falconer (1923)]
As for avarice in an old man, I simply can’t understand it; could anything be more ridiculous than to ask for more and more travel-funds as one’s journey grows closer and closer to its end?
[tr. Copley (1967)]
But greed is another thing altogether. I can never understand why elderly men are so attached to their money. What could be more pointless? Toward the end of a journey, one’s travelling expenses ought to be less, rather than more.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]
When it comes to old people’s avidity,
It is altogether beyond my pale
To seek more food when shorter is the trail.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]
When I had the strength, I did not have the patience. I have the patience today and I no longer have the power.
Joseph Joubert (1754-1824) French moralist, philosopher, essayist, poet
Pensées [Thoughts], 1812 (1850 ed.) [tr. Auster (1983)]
(Source)
Not found in other collections.
What will you think of pleasures when you no longer enjoy them?
Joseph Joubert (1754-1824) French moralist, philosopher, essayist, poet
Pensées [Thoughts], 1802 entry [tr. Auster (1983)]
(Source)
I could not find an analog in other translations of the Pensées.
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)
He that would pass the latter part of life with honour and decency, must, when he is young, consider that he shall one day be old; and remember, when he is old, that he has once been young.
Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) English writer, lexicographer, critic
The Rambler, #50 (8 Sep 1750)
(Source)
Often misattributed to Joseph Addison.
Time robs us of all, even of memory.
[Omnia fert aetas, animum quoque.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Eclogues [Eclogae, Bucolics, Pastorals], No. 9 “Lycidas and Moeris,” l. 51 (9.51) [Moeris] (42-38 BC) [tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1916)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Age all things wasts: the minde too.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
The rest I have forgot, for Cares and Time
Change all things, and untune my Soul to Rhyme.
[tr. Dryden (1709), ll. 70-71]
Ah! age, which pilfers all, not e'en the memory spares!
[tr. Wrangham (1830), l. 60]
Age bears away all things, even the mind itself.
[tr. Davidson (1854)]
Time carries all -- our memories e'en -- away.
[tr. Calverley (c. 1871)]
Time steals everything, memory among the rest.
[tr. Wilkins (1873)]
Now memory scarce can aught recall;
The note is lost, the voice, the all.
[tr. King (1882), ll. 901-902]
Alas! Old age bears hard on everything;
On memory most.
[tr. Palmer (1883)]
Time carries all things, even our wits, away.
[tr. Greenough (1895)]
Age bears away all things, even the memory itself.
[tr. Bryce (1897)]
Time runs away with all things, the mind too.
[tr. Mackail (1899)]
How time wears all things out!
Even the memory.
[tr. Mackail/Cardew (1908)]
Ah, time takes all we have, the memory too.
[tr. Williams (1915)]
Time bears away
All things, even the mind.
[tr. Royds (1922)]
Time carries everything away, even our memory.
[tr. Rieu (1949)]
Age robs us of all things,
Even the mind.
[tr. Johnson (1960)]
Time bears all away, even memory.
[tr. Day Lewis (1963)]
Time takes all we have away from us.
[tr. Ferry (1999)]
Time takes away all things, memory too.
[tr. Kline (2001)]
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)
Our hair
Grows grizzled, and we are not what we were.
‘What do you fear, lady?’ he asked.
‘A cage,’ she said. ‘To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’
J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973) English writer, fabulist, philologist, academic [John Ronald Reuel Tolkien]
The Lord of the Rings, Vol. 3: The Return of the King, Book 5, ch. 2 “The Passing of the Grey Company” [Aragorn and Eowyn] (1955)
(Source)
Come, my friends.
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It is a bore, I admit, to be past seventy, for you are left for execution, and are daily expecting the death-warrant; but, as you say, it is not anything very capital we quit. We are, at the close of life, only hurried away from stomach-aches, pains in the joints, from sleepless nights and unamusing days, from weakness, ugliness, and nervous tremors; but we shall all meet again in another planet, cured of all our defects.
Sydney Smith (1771-1845) English clergyman, essayist, wit
Letter (1842-09-13) to Lady Holland
(Source)
I am old, but I certainly have not that sign of old-age, extolling the past at the expense of the present.
Sydney Smith (1771-1845) English clergyman, essayist, wit
Memoir of the Reverend Sydney Smith, by His Daughter, Lady Holland, Vol. 1, ch. 11 (1855)
(Source)
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).
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Old men delight in giving good advice as a consolation for the fact that they can no longer set bad examples.
[Les vieillards aiment à donner de bons préceptes, pour se consoler de n’être plus en état de donner de mauvais exemples.]
François VI, duc de La Rochefoucauld (1613-1680) French epigrammatist, memoirist, noble
Réflexions ou sentences et maximes morales [Reflections; or Sentences and Moral Maxims], ¶93 (1665-1678) [tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]
(Source)
Appeared in the 1st (1665) edition.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
Old Folks love mightily to give good Advice, because this makes them some sort of Amends, for being incapable now of setting Ill Examples.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶94]
Old-age gives good advice, when it is no longer able to give bad example.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶322; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶90]
Old men; are fond of giving good advice, to console themselves for being no longer in a position to give bad examples.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶97]
Old people like to give good advice, since they can no longer set bad examples.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶93]
Old people are fond of giving good advice to console themselves for being no longer able to give bad examples.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶93]
Old people love to give good advice: it compensates them for their inability nowadays to set a bad example.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶93]
Old men love to give good advice to console themselves for not being able to set bad examples.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶93]
Old people are fond of giving good advice; it consoles them for no longer being capable of setting a bad example.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶93]
Old men love to give good precepts in order to console themselves for no longer being able to set bad examples.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶93]
A person is always startled when he hears himself seriously called an old man for the first time.