The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young.
The three true ages of man are youth, middle age, and how the f*** did I get old so soon?
The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude.[El secreto de una buena vejez no es otra cosa que un pacto honrado con la soledad.]
The afternoon came down as imperceptibly as age comes to a happy man.
That’s what happens when people reach old age. Nobody remembers they’ve been bastards too.
Old age is always wakeful; as if, the longer linked with life, the less man has to do with aught that looks like death.
Old age fulfills the dreams of youth. One sees this in Swift: in his youth he built an insane asylum; in his old age he himself entered it.[Alderdommen realiserer Ungdommens Drømme: det seer man paa Swift, han byggede i sin Ungdom en Daarekiste, i sin Alderdom gik han selv i den.]
Nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old.
No one should be alone in their old age.
Most fatal diseases had their own specific odor, but that none was as specific as old age.[La mayoría de las enfermedades mortales tenían un olor propio, pero ninguno era tan específico como el de la vejez.]
It is old age, rather than death, that is to be contrasted with life. Old age is life’s parody, whereas death transforms life into a destiny: in a way it preserves it by giving it the absolute dimension. Death does away with time.
It is difficult to know how to treat the errors of the age. If a man oppose them, he stands alone; if he surrender to them, they bring him neither joy nor credit.
