Stephen Leacock Quotes

If I could still play, I would be trying. It's been 15 years.

I long for the time of no more departures. It has something to do with age, probably.

The notion of time bothers me. You look at thirty-year-old photographs and realize how the time has passed.

For years I wanted to be older, and now I am.

Watching your children growing up makes you aware of time passing. You think, 'Oh, God, look at them now! He won't be like this for much longer.'

I used to love getting older.

I'm not the spring chicken anymore.

No matter how good of a ball player you were, you can't keep going forever. You're not going to be able to hit .300 when you're 60. You still look around and you think, 'This is weird. Have I missed something?' Well, yeah, you have.

Oh, would that my mind could let fall its dead ideas, as the tree does its withered leaves! And without too many regrets, if possible! Those from which the sap has withdrawn. But, good Lord, what beautiful colors!

I'd love to go back to when we played as kids, but things change. And that's the way it is.

Try to hold on to youth and it mocks you while it sprints away.

One of the things you realize about gettin older is that not everybody is goin to get older with you.

The house, the pond, the tree-it was all both overwhelmingly familiar and different from what she remembered-smaller and shabbier, somehow. It was like waking up to find that your reflection in the mirror had aged overnight, or had sprouted a new mole: You were forced to admit that things changed, whether you gave them permission to or not.

My dancing days are past.

But it all zipped by. One minute Marlena and I were up to our eyeballs, and the next thing we knew the kids were borrowing the car and fleeing the coop for college. And now, here I am. In my nineties and alone.

When autumn comes, it doesn't ask. It just walks in, where it left you last. And you never know, when it starts; until there's fog inside the glass around your summer heart.

We stand there, quiet. My questions all seem wrong: How did you get so old? Was it all at once, in a day, or did you peter out bit by bit? When did you stop having parties? Did everyone else get old too, or was it just you? Are other people still here, hiding in the palm trees or holding their breath underwater? When did you last swim your laps? Do your bones hurt? Did you know this was coming and hide that you knew, or did it ambush you from behind?

I'm ex-player, ex-technical director, ex-coach, ex-manager, ex-honorary president. A nice list that once again shows that everything comes to an end.

O Time and change! - with hair as gray as was my sire's that winter day, how strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on!

We have a very precise image - an image at times shameless - of what we have lost, but we are ignorant of what may follow or replace it.

Now at my age I understand how sad it must have been for some directors or actors at the time the talkies began. Because, really, a whole continent disappeared.

Remember when we didn't live in the future? When we were young, it was not the future yet.

Being traded is like celebrating your 100th birthday. It might not be the happiest occasion in the world, but consider the alternative.

I can never be the hero now. You have to be young and all that stuff. I used to be the hero.