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Youth is the period in which a man can be hopeless. The end of every episode is the end of read more
Youth is the period in which a man can be hopeless. The end of every episode is the end of the world. But the power of hoping through everything, the knowledge that the soul survives its adventures, that great inspiration comes to the middle-aged.
Many people use their youth to make their old age miserable
Many people use their youth to make their old age miserable
You're never too old to become younger
You're never too old to become younger
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
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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.
Youth, what man's age is like to be, doth show;
We may our ends by our beginnings know.
Youth, what man's age is like to be, doth show;
We may our ends by our beginnings know.
Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;
The read more
Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone,
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
Smiling always with a never fading serenity of countenance, and
flourishing in an immortal youth.
Smiling always with a never fading serenity of countenance, and
flourishing in an immortal youth.
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.
