It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it.

It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it.

There is a fountain of youth: It is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring in your life and read more

There is a fountain of youth: It is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring in your life and the lives of people you love

The deepest definition of youth is life as yet untouched by tragedy.

The deepest definition of youth is life as yet untouched by tragedy.

Her years
Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
But there are forms which Time to touch read more

Her years
Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
But there are forms which Time to touch forbears.
And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things.

Young men are fitter to invent than to judge; fitter for
execution than for counsel; and fitter for new read more

Young men are fitter to invent than to judge; fitter for
execution than for counsel; and fitter for new projects than for
settled business.

Olympian bards who sung
Divine ideas below,
Which always find us young
And always read more

Olympian bards who sung
Divine ideas below,
Which always find us young
And always keep us so.

Youth is easily deceived, because it is quick to hope.

Youth is easily deceived, because it is quick to hope.

Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
read more

Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
These laid the world away: poured out the red
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be
Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene
That men call age, and those who would have been
Their sons, they gave their immortality.

People grow old only by deserting their ideals, Macarthur had written. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up read more

People grow old only by deserting their ideals, Macarthur had written. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up interest wrinkles the soul. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope as old as your despair. In the central place of every heart there is a recording chamber. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer and courage, so long are you young. When your heart is covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then, and then only, are you grown old. And then, indeed as the ballad says, you just fade away.