Middle Age Quotes
Most popular middle age quotes
Forty is ten years older than thirty-nine.
Litigation takes the place of sex at middle age.
Boys will be boys, and so will a lot of middle-aged men.
Middle age: when you begin to exchange your emotions for symptoms.
Mere middle age snuffs out more talent than even wars or sudden deaths do.
What most persons consider as virtue, after the age of 40 is simply a loss of energy.
He must have had a magnificent build before his stomach went in for a career of its own.
Middle age is when you begin to wonder who put the quicksand into the hourglass of time.
Middle age is the awkward period when Father Time starts catching up with Mother Nature.
The really frightening thing about middle age is the knowledge that you'll grow out of it.
Youth is when you're allowed to stay up late on New Year 's Eve. Middle age is when you're forced to.
Midlife crisis is that moment when you realize your children and your clothes are about the same age.
Middle age is when you've met so many people that every new person you meet reminds you of someone else.
At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty-five they are caves in which we hide.
Middle age is the time when a man is always thinking that in a week or two he will feel just as good as ever.
One of the many things nobody ever tells you about middle age is that it's such a nice change from being young.
Middle age is when you're sitting at home on a Saturday night and the telephone rings and you hope it isn't for you.
The afternoon of human life must also have a significance of its own and cannot be merely a pitiful appendage to life's morning.
I think middle age is the best time, if we can escape the fatty degeneration of the conscience which often sets in at about fifty.
At fifty, the madwoman in the attic breaks loose, stomps down the stairs, and sets fire to the house. She won't be imprisoned anymore.
For is it not possible that middle age can be looked upon as a period of second flowering, second growth, even a kind of second adolescence?
The Indian Summer of life should be a little sunny and a little sad, like the season, and infinite in wealth and depth of tone–but never hustled.
Years ago we discovered the exact point, the dead center of middle age. It occurs when you are too young to take up golf and too old to rush up to the net.
In middle age we are apt to reach the horrifying conclusion that all sorrow, all pain, all passionate regret and loss and bitter disillusionment are self-made.
Middle age is Janus-faced. As we look back on our accomplishments and our failures to achieve the things we wanted, we look ahead to the time we have left to us.
Perhaps middle age is, or should be, a period of shedding shells; the shell of ambition, the shell of material accumulations and possessions, the shell of the ego.
He was then in his fifty-fourth year, when even in the case of poets, reason and passion begin to discuss a peace treaty and usually conclude it not very long afterwards.
You know you've reached middle age when a doctor, not a policeman, tells you to slow down, all you exercise are your prerogatives and it takes you longer to rest than to get tired.
The power of hoping through everything, the knowledge that the soul survives its adventures, that great inspiration comes to the middle-aged. God has kept that good wine until now.
The youth gets together his materials to build a bridge to the moon, or perchance, a palace or temple on the earth, and, at length, the middle-aged man concludes to build a woodshed with them.
Whoever, in middle age, attempts to realize the wishes and hopes of his early youth, invariably deceives himself. Each ten years of a man's life has its own fortunes, its own hopes, its own desires.
My mother had demonstrated that the best way to defeat the numbing ambivalence of middle age is to surprise yourself—by pulling off some cartwheel of thought or action never even imagined at a younger age.
A person taking stock in middle age is like an artist or composer looking at an unfinished work; but whereas the composer and the painter can erase some of their past efforts, we cannot. We are stuck with what we have lived through.
I have discovered that middle-age is not a question of years. It is that moment in life when one realizes that one has exchanged, by a series of subtle shifts and substitutes, the vague and vaporous dreams of youth, for the definite and tangible realization.
It's middle-age which is cursed by the desperate need to cling to some finger-hold halfway up the mountain, to conform, not to cause trouble, to behave well, and it is perhaps mercifully, the period which becomes blurred in the memory, the time when you did nothing more difficult than survive.