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

The boy gathers materials for a temple, and then when he is thirty, concludes to build a woodshed. – Henry David Thoreau

I complain that the years fly past, but then I look in a mirror and see that very few of them actually got past. – Robert Brault, rbrault.blogspot.com