Simon Le Bon Quotes

When you get old, it's hard to tell what's memory and what you've kind of created in your head as memory, you know?

As you get older three things happen. The first is your memory goes, and I can't remember the other two.

You know, as you get older, the first thing you lose is memory. It seems to be happening with me.

A man growing old becomes a child again.

There are three signs of senility. The first sign is that a man forgets his theorems. The second sign is that he forgets to zip up. The third sign is that he forgets to zip down.

I don't remember what I did fifty years ago.

Age carries all things away, even the mind.

When you become senile, you won't know it.

When you get older, two things happen to you. You begin to lose your hearing, and I forget what the other one is.

I'm just one of those people who can always tell the same story twice, forgetting that I've told it already.

When you're 89, dementia develops. I mean, I've told a story onstage, and I'm telling it with a full heart, and I forgot the damn punch line.

As you get older, you worry about your memory.

The older you get the more new memories get wiped out, and you end up remembering more about your early life than what you did last week.

When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened. It is sad to go to pieces like this but we all have to do it.

My grandfather said, "When you become senile, you won't know it."

It is a triumph of life that old people lose their memories of inessential things.

I must admit I am nervous about getting Alzheimer's. Once it hits, I might tell my best joke and never know it.

If I ever tell the same story twice, just laugh and roll with it because, when you get older, you start doing that kind of stuff.

A guy says, I'm so old that I forgot how old I am. An old woman says, I'll tell you how old you are. Take off your clothes and bend over. The man does this. The woman says, You're seventy four. The man says, How can you tell? The woman says, You told me yesterday.

Is there anything more tedious than the often repeated tales of the old and forgetful?

I am ninety. Or ninety-three. One or the other.

Contrary to popular belief, it's not the legs that go first; it's remembering the word for legs.

Was it the forgetfulness of old age or personal incapacity that made the man able to say please but not thank you?

To forget is the secret of eternal youth. One grows old only through memory. There's much too little forgetting.

It is lost, lovely child, somewhere in the ragbag that I laughingly refer to as my memory.