With age we get wiser, but our green and innocent selves have already made life’s great decisions.
To do what one likes requires free time, money, and health. Children have health and free time but no money. Adults have health and money but no free time. The old have money and free time but no health.
I am nowhere, through being too aware of everywhere.
Time will satisfy our curiosity about the future so slowly that we will never gain much pleasure from learning the outcome.
Adolescence attracts me not for the happiness I had, but for the happiness I believed I could have.
From the delivery room to the morgue is a short walk down the hallway of life.
At the funerals of the old, we grieve for the young of fifty years ago.
The adult's unit of aging is the decade, the child's is the month. Humans age faster, the younger they are.
No wonder in youth we feel immortal. How could we die when it seems we have always lived?
The young are eager to be adults, adults look forward to being retired, the retired envy youth. We possess the pieces of a happy life, too bad we cherish them out of sequence.
In a concert hall, the girl in bloom closes her eyes and imagines all she may be, while beside her the wrinkled widow closes her eyes and remembers all she has been.
Because young writers feel impassioned, they try too hard to impassion their readers. Should not the reader forgive this falseness born of authenticity?
Whoever can count his money has too little of it.