An old man loved is winter with flowers. – Proverb

Growing old is not a gradual decline, but a series of drops, full of sorrow, from one ledge to another below it. But when we pick ourselves up we find our bones are, after all, not broken; while level enough and not unpleasing is the new terrace which lies unexplored before us. – Logan Pearsall Smith, “Age and Death,” Afterthoughts, 1931

May we keep a little of the fuel of youth to warm our body in old age. – Minna Thomas Antrim, “To Harder Times,” A Book of Toasts, 1902