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Sometimes I think that not having to worry about your hair anymore is the secret upside of death.
Things People Have a Shocking Capacity to Be Surprised by Over and Over Again
Men cheat.
Freedom of the press belongs to the man who owns one.
Beautiful young women sometimes marry ugly, old rich men.
You can never know the truth of anyone’s marriage, including your own.
Everybody lies.
People look like their dogs.
Parenting meant playing Mozart CDs while you were pregnant, doing without the epidural, and breast-feeding your child until it was old enough to unbutton your blouse. Parenting began with the assumption that your baby was a lump of clay that could be molded (through hard work, input, and positive reinforcement) into a perfect person who would someday be admitted to the college of your choice. Parenting was not simply about raising a child, it was about transforming a child, force-feeding it like a foie gras goose, altering, modifying, modulating, manipulating, smoothing out, improving.
Everywhere you look there’s cancer. Once a week there’s some sort of bad news. Once a month there’s a funeral. You lose close friends and discover one of the worst truths of old age: they’re irreplaceable. People who run four miles a day and eat only nuts and berries drop dead. People who drink a quart of whiskey and smoke two packs of cigarettes a day drop dead. You are suddenly in a lottery, the ultimate game of chance, and someday your luck will run out. Everybody dies. There’s nothing you can do about it. Whether or not you eat six almonds a day. Whether or not you believe in God.
Never marry a man you wouldn’t want to be divorced from.
Adolescence is for parents, not for adolescents.
"Oldies but goldies" diye tatlıya bağlanır
I’m old.
I’m not really old, of course.
Really old is eighty.
But if you are young, you would definitely think that I’m old.
No one actually likes to admit that they’re old.
The most they will cop to is that they’re older. Or oldish.
Someone complimented her on how remarkably young she looked, and she replied, “This is what forty looks like.” It was a great line. “This is what forty looks like” led, inevitably, to its most significant corollary, “Forty is the new thirty."
Our faces are lies and our necks are the truth. You have to cut open a redwood tree to see how old it is, but you wouldn’t have to if it had a neck.
My experience is that “I don’t know what you’re talking about” is code for “I see what you mean, but if you think you’re going to trap me into engaging on this subject, you’re crazy.”