Old age is an excellent time for outrage. My goal is to say or do at least one outrageous thing read more

Old age is an excellent time for outrage. My goal is to say or do at least one outrageous thing every week.

My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, read more

My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),

Forty is the old age of youth; fifty the youth of old age.

Forty is the old age of youth; fifty the youth of old age.

To be seventy years old is like climbing the Alps. You reach a snow-crowned summit, and see behind you the read more

To be seventy years old is like climbing the Alps. You reach a snow-crowned summit, and see behind you the deep valley stretching miles and miles away, and before you other summits higher and whiter, which you may have strength to climb, or may not. Then you sit down and meditate and wonder which it will be.

Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars. Oh, wisdom never read more

Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars. Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold, And the great price we paid for it full worth: We have it only when we are half earth. Little avails that coinage to the old!

. . . Years steal
Fire from the mind, as vigor from the limb;
And life's enchanted read more

. . . Years steal
Fire from the mind, as vigor from the limb;
And life's enchanted cut but sparkles near the brim.

Some people, no matter how old they get, never lose their beauty - they merely move it from their faces read more

Some people, no matter how old they get, never lose their beauty - they merely move it from their faces into their hearts.

The follies which a man regrets most in his life are those which he didn't commit when he had the read more

The follies which a man regrets most in his life are those which he didn't commit when he had the opportunity. -Helen Rowland.

What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,
The lustre read more

What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,
The lustre of the eye?
Is it for Beauty to forego her wreath?
Yes; but not this alone.