I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.'
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
That is how it stiffens, my vision of that seaside childhood. My father died; we moved inland. Whereon those nine first years of my life sealed themselves off like a ship in a bottle - beautiful, inaccessible, obsolete: a fine, white, flying myth.
My old man is a man of few words.
It is with an old love as it is with old age a man lives to all the miseries, but is dead to all the pleasures.
It is always in season for old men to learn.
Young men, hear an old man to whom old men hearkened when he was young.
There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
When I'm an old lady, I'm going to have my pick of the young men. They'll be like, 'She's Miss Mary Jane!' The young boys will think I'm a hot old lady.
So much has been said and sung of beautiful young girls, why doesn't somebody wake up to the beauty of old women.
Every woman feels she is too old and has missed the boat.
Old age is a shipwreck.