Ninety Years Old Quotes & Sayings

The tiny waiter, who looks to be about ninety-seven years old, comes over and wheezes through what I assume are the specials. Szabolcs, his nametag says. I can't understand a word he says. He may be telling me that his great-great-grandchildren are in the kitchen being gnawed on by a pack of wolves. I nod and smile. "I'll have the chicken," I say. Szabolcs asks something that has a lot of sht and tsz and ejht sounds in it. "Sounds good," I tell him. This is how people end up eating cats, I believe. — Kristan Higgins

Sweetheart, even when you're fifty years old and I'm pushing ninety, I'll still worry about you. You're my daughter and I love you. — Lolita Lopez

I would far rather get to be ninety years old and look back and say, "I tried my damnedest" to succeed, rather than get to be ninety and think, "I wonder what would have happened if only I had done something different.
Katie's character, Julia's Chocolates — Cathy Lamb

A man ninety years old was asked to what he attributed his longevity. I reckon, he said, with a twinkle in his eye, it because most nights I went to bed and slept when I should have sat up and worried. — Garson Kanin

Last Saturday night I was in a club on the South Side of Chicago listening to live rock music and talking to a guitar playing veteran of the music scene in the city. He looked and talked like the musicians that I recall from my childhood; he was a thin, cigarette smoking, avant garde and interesting guy. We got to talking about a life in the relatively risky creative arts and he said, "Look, you could get that safe job and spend your whole life that way, but what are you waiting for? When you're ninety-six years old and have three days left? Is that when you decide to do what you love? — Jamie Freveletti

So I'm beginning to think that when I'm fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety years old I still won't be any closer to being wise and knowledgeable. Perhaps people on their deathbeds, who have had long, long lives, seen it all, travelled the world, have had kids, been through their own personal traumas, beaten their demons and learned the harsh lessons of life will be thinking : God, people in heaven must really know it all. — Cecelia Ahern

He looked ninety years old for thirty years and then he got the notion that he would die, and did so. — Richard Brautigan

You know, my young friend, I will be ninety years old next year, and life is still a constant surprise to me. We never know what will happen next, what we will see, and what important person will come into our life, or what important person we will lose. Life is change, constant change, and unless we are lucky enough to find comedy in it, change is nearly always a drama, if not a tragedy. But after everything, and even when the skies turn scarlet and threatening, I still believe that if we are lucky enough to be alive, we must give thanks for the miracle of every moment of every day, no matter how flawed. — Mark T. Sullivan

I'm here to right wrongs and I'm gonna do it, Angel. You told me I'd had my last chance but I don't accept that and I won't. If you tell me now that my explanation is not enough and you want me gone, I'm not goin'. I'm not giving up. I got one part of my life's dream still open to me, very sign she gives me is screaming that she's standing in my arms right now and I'm not gonna be ninety years old, looking back on my life and regretting that I gave up that dream. — Kristen Ashley

Three hundred and thirty-two kids between the age of one month and fourteen years had been confined within the FAYZ.
One hundred and ninety-six eventually emerged.
One hundred and thirty-six lay dead.
Dead and buried in the town plaza.
Dead and floating in the lake or on its shores.
Dead in the desert.
In the fields.
Dead of battles old and recent. Of starvation and accident, suicide and murder.
It was a fatality rate of just over 40 percent. — Michael Grant

Plans?" he snorted. "I'm ninety-three years old! Who in tarnation makes plans at my age? I could stop breathin' any minute now. — Linda Howard

Do you ever worry that life is passing you by while day in and day out you're focused on what you're supposed to be doing, rather than what you want to be doing? Then, before you know it, you're old and curled up on your deathbed, weigh ninety pounds, nothing but elbows and knees, consumed with remorseful thoughts that obligations and function controlled your life while you sat idly by and watched it happen. Feeble and unable to eat anything but chicken broth or ice chips, you think, Golden years my ass, I'll never get the chance to shout my name from the rooftop and why didn't I take advantage of my youth? — Allison Morgan

On my last birthday I was ninety-three years old. That is not young, of course. In fact, it is older than ninety. But age is a relative matter. If you continue to work and to absorb the beauty in the world about you, you find that age does not necessarily mean getting old. At least, not in the ordinary sense. I feel many things more intensely than ever before, and for me life grows more fascinating. — Pablo Casals

I don't know when I died. It always seemed to me I died old, about ninety years old, and what years, and that my body bore it out, from head to foot. But this evening, alone in my icy bed, I have the feeling I'll be older than the day, the night, when the sky with all its lights fell upon me, the same I had so often gazed on since my first stumblings on the distant earth. For I'm too frightened this evening to listen to myself rot, waiting for the great red lapses of the heart, the tear sings at the caecal walls, and for the slow killings to finish in my skull, the assaults on unshakable pillars, the fornications with corpses. So I'll tell myself a story, I'll try and tell myself another story, to try and calm myself, and it's there I feel I'll be old, old, even older than the day I fell, calling for help, and it came. Or is it possible that in this story I have come back to life, after my death? No, it's not like me to come back to life, after my death. — Samuel Beckett

He sees me staring and raises his hands in the air like what the shit, dude? "I will use a wheelchair if and when the following conditions are met. One, I ain't got no fucking legs. Two, I'm paralyzed from the waist down. Three, I'm ninety-six years old. None of those apply to the current situation. You try to put me in that thing, and I will put you down. — C.M. Stunich

Sweet mother of God. I was kidding about you crushing on her, but I'm right. Oh my God, you are totally jealous of her bodyguard! Oh this is priceless!" Gwen starts laughing.
"This is a job, nothing else. Just like Mrs. Henderson last week was a job. I don't mix business with pleasure. Ever," I tell her firmly.
"Mrs. Henderson is ninety-two years old and thought her dog was stealing food out of her fridge. I would hope to God you would never mix that kind of business with pleasure. That's just gross," Gwen says with a grimace. — Tara Sivec

Blame or credit, does not belong to the child alone. Parents, those who raised the child, must be given equal credit, or blame. That does not change, when the child is one, twenty or ninety years old. — Omar Kiam

He was over ninety years of age, his walk was erect, he talked loudly, saw clearly, drank neat, ate, slept, and snored. He had all thirty-two of his teeth. He only wore spectacles when he read. He was of an amorous disposition, but declared that, for the last ten years, he had wholly and decidedly renounced women. He could no longer please, he said; he did not add: "I am too old," but: "I am too poor." He said: "If I were not ruined
Heee!" All he had left, in fact, was an income of about fifteen thousand francs. His dream was to come into an inheritance and to have a hundred thousand livres income for mistresses. He did not belong, as the reader will perceive, to that puny variety of octogenaries who, like M. de Voltaire, have been dying all their life; his was no longevity of a cracked pot; this jovial old man had always had good health. — Victor Hugo

A ninety-two-year-old man has to open a lot of locks to recall a day when he was nine years old. — Robert McCammon

Yeah, I know," he agreed. "It was a surprise," he admitted. "I mean, who the hell would have expected a ninety-seven-year-old man to just up and die?" Bill's dad had indeed been only three years from his one-hundredth birthday when he shocked everyone by waking up dead one morning. — Hope Jahren

Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" And at the same time, his long bony body rose up out of the bed and his bowl of soup went flying into the face of Grandma Josephine, and in one fantastic leap, this old fellow of ninety-six and a half, who hadn't been out of bed these last twenty years, jumped on to the floor and started doing a dance of victory in his pajamas. — Roald Dahl

Between the years of ninety-two and a hundred and two, however, we shall be the ribald, useless, drunken, outcast person we have always wished to be. We shall have a long white beard and long white hair; we shall not walk at all, but recline in a wheel chair and bellow for alcoholic beverages; in the winter we shall sit before the fire with our feet in a bucket of hot water, a decanter of corn whiskey near at hand, and write ribald songs against organized society ... We look forward to a disreputable, vigorous, unhonoured, and disorderly old age. — Don Marquis

All right." Lucy shouldered her way to my side and made a waving motion as if they were annoying flies. "Shoo!" She narrowed her eyes. "I said shoo."
They dispersed, mostly startled into moving. Only Logan remained, leaning casually against the wall.
"Darling, I'm not some insect to be chased away."
"Darling?" She snorted amiably. "You're not ninety years old, either."
He straightened. "I'm charming," he informed her. "And women like endearments. — Alyxandra Harvey

A long time back, she thought, I dreamed a dream, and was enjoying it so much when someone wakened me, and that day I was born. And now? Now, let me see ... She cast her mind back. Where was I? she thought. Ninety years ... how to take up the thread and the pattern of that lost dream again? She put out a small hand. There ... yes, that was it. She smiled. Deeper in the warm snow hill she turned her head upon her pillow. That was better. Now, yes, now she saw it shaping in her mind quietly, and with a serenity like a sea moving along an endless and self-refreshing shore. Now she let the old dream touch and lift her from the snow and drift her above the scarce-remembered bed. — Ray Bradbury

I meant the house behind him clutching his chest, Parker gasped. Gage! you pervert! That's Mrs. Falconi-she's ninety-six years old! Clearing her throat,Miss Dupree struggled to keep her own amusement in check. Thank you Roo,for that fascinating bit of information. And should any of us a pervert lurking outside our windows tonight, We can all rest easily now,Knowing it's only Gage. — Richie Tankersley Cusick

Larry's such a liar---
He tells outrageous lies.
He says he's ninety-nine years old
Instead of only five.
He says he lives up on the moon,
He says that he once flew.
He says he's really six feet four
Instead of three feet two.
He says he has a billion dollars
'Stead of just a dime.
He says he rode a dinosaur
Back in some distant time.
He says his mother is the moon
Who taught him magic spells.
He says his father is the wind
That rings the morning bells.
He says he can take stones and rocks
And turn them into gold.
He says he can take burnin' fire
And turn it freezin' cold.
He said he'd send me seven elves
To help me with my chores.
But Larry's such a liar---
He only sent me four. — Shel Silverstein

Alex, you're so beautiful, sometimes just looking in our eyes makes my heart stop. Even if I never see you again after today ... even if I get to be ninety nine years old, and have a life that goes on without you ... I will never, ever forget our first kiss. — Charles Sheehan-Miles

Yes." Brett smiled and I cringed at his omission of 'ma'am.' The word was a Southern requirement, a verbal side dish that must accompany every course. It didn't matter if the person addressed was six years old. Or twenty. Or ninety. In the South, we said 'please' and 'thank you,' 'sir,' and 'ma'am. — Alessandra Torre

Well, what if he's ... old? He's been down here for years. What if he's ninety?" Cole's voice sounded very pleased at the notion.
"I wouldn't care," I said.
"Oh, you wouldn't care if you brought Jack all the way home from the tunnels only to end up sending him off to a rest home? You'd be fine spoon-feeding him mashed peas as long as the two of you were together?"
I grimaced. "Believe it or not, I would. As long as I had him back."
"Kinky." Cole smirked. — Brodi Ashton

You know, old books are a big problem for us. Old knowledge in general. We call it OK. Old knowledge, OK. Did you know that ninety-five percent of the internet was only created in the last five years? But we know that when it comes to all human knowledge, the ratio is just the opposite - in fact, OK accounts for most things that people know, and have ever known. — Robin Sloan

Li Gui called out, "Sir, if you kill me you will kill two persons."

"How do you make that out?" asked Li Kui, staying the blow.

"At home I support my mother who is ninety years of age, and this is my only means of helping her in her old age," said Li Gui. "I never injure people, but only make them afraid. If you kill me, my old mother will die of starvation."

Li Kui who never twinkled his eyes in chopping off people's heads, paused and thought when he heard this. "Here am I trying to succour my old mother, and yet killing a man who supports his old mother. Heaven will not allow me to live if I do this. No! No! I will forgive this man.

(J.H. Jackson translation) — Shi Nai'an

Here I am, ninety years old and ready for the cooling board, using a brand new Macintosh computer, and there you sit, twenty-two and gorgeous, fresh as a new peach, yet scrawling on a yellow legal pad like an old maid in a Victorian romance. — Stephen King

After four hundred and ninety-nine years of existence, Connor Buchanan arrived at an inescapable conclusion regarding himself. He was a coldhearted old bastard. — Kerrelyn Sparks

And then he only had eyes for the pie. Watch any man, he could be ninety years old and drooling spit, but at the sight of homemade pie every last one of his wits will spring to attention. — Elizabeth Hay