Time takes away the grief of men....

The nearer people approach old age the closer they return to a semblance of childhood, until the time comes for them to depart this life, again like children, neither tired of living nor aware of death.

Everyone knows that by far the happiest and universally enjoyable age of man is the first. What is there about babies which makes us hug and kiss and fondle them, so that even an enemy would give them help at that age?

The desire to write grows with writing.

As I grow older, I pay less attention to what men say. I just watch what they do.

Men of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of success.

Men are like wine - some turn to vinegar, but the best improve with age.

I suppose when they reach a certain age some men are afraid to grow up. It seems the older the men get, the younger their new wives get.

A comfortable old age is the reward of a well-spent youth. Instead of its bringing sad and melancholy prospects of decay, it would give us hopes of eternal youth in a better world.

It is sad to grow old but nice to ripen.

What makes old age so sad is not that our joys but our hopes cease.

Few women, I fear, have had such reason as I have to think the long sad years of youth were worth living for the sake of middle age.