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

Oh, for one hour of blind old Dandolo, Th' octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe!

Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.

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 ,

For oute of olde feldys, as men sey, Comyth al this newe corn from yere to yere; And out of old bokis, in good fey, Comyth al this newe science that men lere.

The first sign of maturity is the discovery that the volume knob also turns to the left.

Youth is a wonderful thing. What a crime to waste it on children.

Every man over forty is a scoundrel.

Youth is wasted on the young.

In youth we run into difficulties. In old age difficulties run into us.

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.

When a noble life has prepared old age, it is not decline that it reveals, but the first days of immortality.

The trick is growing up without growing old.

Age considers; youth ventures.

Age is a very high price to pay for maturity.

None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.

The awareness of the ambiguity of one's highest achievements is a definite symptom of maturity.

Old age is the most unexpected of all the things that can happen to a man.

Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.

Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.