W. Somerset Maugham Quotes

We can't get our youth back.

There is always some specific moment when we become aware that our youth is gone; but, years after, we know it was much later.

...inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.

As time goes by and you're getting older and stuff like that - getting older sucks. You know, I hear all this crap about, 'Oh, you can age with dignity.' Really?

If you're not getting older, you're dead.

I'm not getting any younger. You're not getting any younger, so yeah. You age.

Swift speedy time, feathered with flying hours, Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow.

Heavens, Mary, of course we'll laugh again. It's just that we'll never be young again.

nobody ever intends to be old.

I can't believe I'm 29. Where did the years go? Why did the years go?

But when to-morrow comes, yesterday's morrow will have been already spent: and lo! a fresh morrow will be for ever making away with our years, each just beyond our grasp.

The truth is I'm getting old, I said. We already are old, she said with a sigh. What happens is that you don't feel it on the inside, but from the outside everybody can see it.

Just as darkness is sometimes defined as the absence of light, so age is defined as the absence of youth.

Here's a song was never sung: Growing old is dying young.

Our years Glide silently away. No tears, No loving orisons repair The wrinkled cheek, the whitening hair That drop forgotten to the tomb.

The years thunder by, The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

Yes, time flies. And where did it leave you? Old too soon...smart too late.

Youth passes like a dream.

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

Time wastes too fast : every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen ; the days and hours of it, more precious, my dear Jenny! than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more -- every thing presses on -- whilst thou are twisting that lock, -- see! it grows grey ; and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make!

It is a pity that, as one gradually gains experience, one loses one's youth.

You know you're old when you get a lifetime achievement award. It's a message you've been around too long.