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All A Quotes

“Aging is often described in terms of decline... But there is another narrative: that aging brings with it a quiet wisdom, a deepening, a refinement. Those who have lived many years carry stories and perspectives younger generations cannot yet imagine. ... With age often comes a shift in priorities. The urgency to prove oneself may fade. The need to impress strangers diminishes”

“Aging on camera is just very hard. I love my age. I feel good about myself but high definition television is not kind. You don't even look like yourself in high-def. It just makes every little line on your face more exaggerated so it ends up aging you. It's like you're watching yourself seven years older.”

“Aging people should know that their lives are not mounting and unfolding but that an inexorable inner process forces the contraction of life. For a young person it is almost a sin and certainly a danger to be too much occupied with himself; but for the aging person it is a duty and a necessity to give serious attention to himself.”

“Aging with all my self. To my younger self, I'm not twenty-something anymore, and in just a month's time I shall walk into another decade of a whole new experience. I don't have youth on my side, but I have a heart of Life enlightened with the very spirit of Life itself, something that draws youth on its lap. Wisdom has been churned out from the mistakes and failures, and lessons have been disguised as soul fillers, and gratitude dances on my lips, waving my heart with a bunch of memories. Perhaps, the memories have been earned. Earned at the cost of those lost turns, cold betrayals, numb tears, forced smiles and a voyage walking through a rainbow of mad jest of Life. With that being said, I wouldn't go back and change even a bit. Through all of that heartache, I have unearthed a heart that is resilient, and pliant, I have met a soul that is strong and loving, and deeper than any thousand paged novel I could get lost in. I have come across beautiful souls in beautiful lands, I have soaked in different cultures and walked my way through observing hearts, listening to stories that run beyond time and tide. I have grown with each one of those smiles and tears, the sands of places that mark my soles make my soul whole in a strange but palpable tune. I have got lost in pathways and met a gypsy soul wandering in the space of infinite time, weaving moments through Life to take back a bunch of images and experiences from a journey called Life. My story has been filled with pages of ups and downs and my cup of Life has had several toxic turns, but in all of that, I have grown, along with one or two grey hair. My pages have often tasted Life in the most happy hue from voyages and dreams that kept overlapping and smiling across the tips of Time. And all of this, has helped me to nurture and nourish an invincible desire to live a life, with a passion no longer on hold, but a heart that is free forever to fly in the tunes of its own whisper. So as I open another day, walking closer to close the page of this twenty-something, I wear a smile that the youth of wisdom paints on my heart. And age, with all the grace that only Age can bring, while loving, forgiving and embracing my younger self in every air of Time. Love, a soul aging gracefully with the Smile of Life.”

“Agitatedly she touched the heavy necklace at her throat, worrying the smooth emeralds between her fingers. "Give that to me," Joyce said sharply, watching her. "The necklace?" "Yes, take it off." Joyce watched as Sara unhooked the glittering treasure from her neck. "A peasant woman with a necklace fit for a queen," she sneered. "You don't have the grace or bearing to wear it properly. Give it to me." Her eager fingers wrapped around the necklace, and she snatched it away. Setting it on the seat beside her, she toyed lovingly with the web of emeralds and diamonds. "He gave me presents... a bracelet, a necklace, jeweled combs for my hair... but nothing as fine as this." She smiled at Sara tauntingly. "The day he gave me the combs, he said that he'd imagined making love to me wearing jewels in my golden hair and nothing else. He much prefers blond hair to dark, did you know that?”

“Agitators are a set of interfering, meddling people, who come down to some perfectly contented class of the community and sow the seeds of discontent amongst them. That is the reason why agitators are so absolutely necessary. Without them, in our incomplete state, there would be no advance towards civilization.”

“Agnes added the yolks of half a dozen eggs to her stuffing, cracking each one over a small bowl so the white ran into it, then dropping each golden orb into the crumbled mixture, where it gleamed like a small sun. Taking up a long metal spoon, she began to stir the ingredients together, cutting again and again through the mix until it had transformed to a rich yellow-tinged forcemeat.”

“Agnes could not count on the fingers of one hand the times she had entered the Blanchards' business premises. Usually she had been sent to borrow extra items of silverware prior to important dinners. Perhaps bowls for sweetmeats or leaf-shaped pickle dishes, or her particular favorite, salt cellars fashioned like muscular sea gods supporting oyster shells- so realistically modeled that every stria of the shell was visible.”

“Agnes subtracts from her self everything that is exterior and borrowed, in order to come closer to her sheer essence (even with the risk that zero lurks at the bottom of the subtraction). Laura's method is precisely the opposite: in order to make her self ever more visible, perceivable, seizable, sizeable, she keeps adding to it more and more attributes and she attempts to identify herself with them (with the risk that the essence of the self may be buried by the additional attributes).”

“Agnete had walked over to one of the taller works, the school of fish, and fingered a small piece of metal slightly darker than the others, its shape not quite symmetrical as the rest of the pieces swimming through the air in swirling, upward drifts. Upon closer scrutiny, Stephen saw she had changed the spacing of this one piece of metal in relation to the others, as well as the weight of it. When the wind blew, it did not move in the same pattern as the rest; instead, it twitched and wavered in a way that suggested it was swimming harder, against the tide, in an effort to catch up. "I'm that fish," she said. "I grew up in this house. It's the only place I've ever lived, and I love it here. But everyone in town knew that Therese, even though she raised me, wasn't my mother. Everyone knew that whoever my father was, he wasn't around. I survived adolescence by convincing myself I didn't care; I told myself being different didn't make me any less." She pulled her hair away from her face, and Stephen was struck by the resemblance to her father. He could feel Bayber's hand, an iron clamp squeezing his wrist. Her father, had he been around, would likely have scared away anyone brave enough to come within five feet of Agnete. "I made this piece because I've always had a feeling of being separated from everyone else, which I was fine with, but at the same time, a fear of being left behind. Does that make sense?" Her explanation resonated with him, though he'd have been hard-pressed to articulate it as clearly. He'd stared at the ground, scowling in concentration, unable to say more than "Yes, I understand what you mean. Maybe I'm that fish, as well." "Then there are two of us. We'll be our own school.”