I wear make-up, and it gets a little bit thicker every year.

Fashion is here to help make people look very important. If they have good taste and choose what suits them, I give them options on how they can do that. It’s always sexy, and it’s always with the same result: making women look fantastic.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

As I got older, I guess I became more mellow and more forgiving and more loving.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older; then it dawned on me – they’re cramming for their final exam.

Growing old has been the greatest surprise of my life.

There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.

Sometimes I think it would be easier to avoid old age, to die young, but then you’d never complete your life, would you? You’d never wholly know you.

The perception of beauty is a moral test.

Secrecy is the element of all goodness; even virtue, even beauty is mysterious.

I love to put on lotion. Sometimes I’ll watch TV and go into a lotion trance for an hour. I try to find brands that don’t taste bad in case anyone wants to taste me.

Education is the best provision for old age.

A woman of the world is anxious to exhibit her form and shape, whether walking, standing, sitting, or sleeping. Even when represented as a picture, she desires to captivate with the charms of her beauty and, thus, to rob men of their steadfast heart.

I never – you know also one of the things that would save me for a man my age, it was not that easy to lose that much weight and fall down and look like something draped.

To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.

Stylistically, I love make-up. I love doing my own make-up and stuff, but clothes-wise, I actually didn’t ever really care. Initially the fashion world was more interested in me than the music world, which was strange when I first started singing.

It is better to be beautiful than to be good. But… it is better to be good than to be ugly.

Beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and devil are fighting there, and the battlefield is the heart of man.

I’ve been running a full marathon every year for more than 20 years, and my record is getting worse. Getting older, getting worse. It’s natural.

I think it would be interesting if old people got anti-Alzheimer’s disease where they slowly began to recover other people’s lost memories.

The day I wake up without cellulite? Now that would be the perfect day.

I’ll die a crazy old man!

Remember that the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless; peacocks and lilies for instance.

The good is the beautiful.

I just want to retire before I go senile because if I don’t retire before I go senile, then I’ll do more damage than good at that point.

You just want something else that someone else has, but that doesn’t mean what you have isn’t beautiful, because people always want what you have, and you always want what they have – no one is ever 100 per cent like, ‚Yes, I’m the bomb dot com – from head to toe!‘

The old cathedrals are good, but the great blue dome that hangs over everything is better.

My grandmother is over eighty and still doesn’t need glasses. Drinks right out of the bottle.

Truths and roses have thorns about them.

I do not have much patience with a thing of beauty that must be explained to be understood. If it does need additional interpretation by someone other than the creator, then I question whether it has fulfilled its purpose.

Beauty is everywhere a welcome guest.

I guess maybe when you get past 70, other people start asking you how you feel.

When I see myself as an old woman, I just think about being happy. And hopefully, I’ll still be fly.

Education is the best friend. An educated person is respected everywhere. Education beats the beauty and the youth.

My personal telephone book is a book of the dead now. I’m so old. Almost all of my friends have died, and I don’t have the guts to take their names out of the book.

Poets say science takes away from the beauty of the stars – mere globs of gas atoms. I, too, can see the stars on a desert night, and feel them. But do I see less or more?

The job of art is to chase ugliness away.

Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time.

Teach us that wealth is not elegance, that profusion is not magnificence, that splendor is not beauty.

I love having an unlimited supply of cocoa butter.

Here ends my forever memorable first High Sierra excursion. I have crossed the Range of Light, surely the brightest and best of all the Lord has built. And, rejoicing in its glory, I gladly, gratefully, hopefully pray I may see it again.

Wisdom I know is social. She seeks her fellows. But Beauty is jealous, and illy bears the presence of a rival.

I read the Bible to myself; I’ll take any translation, any edition, and read it aloud, just to hear the language, hear the rhythm, and remind myself how beautiful English is.

It was easy being healthy when I was young. I was full of energy, so sports and physical challenges were fun. But as I got older and the spring left my step, exercise became harder, and eating, drinking and watching TV became easier. By the time I was 50, I’d put on 50 pounds.

Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!

My grandfather lived to be late 90s on one side and on the other side, 70s or something. And my father died young, at 63. But he didn’t take very good care of himself.

As you get older, the questions come down to about two or three. How long? And what do I do with the time I’ve got left?

Alas! how little does the memory of these human inhabitants enhance the beauty of the landscape!

Don’t get older just to get wiser. If you get older, you will be wiser, I believe that – if you dare. But get older because it’s fun!

No; we have been as usual asking the wrong question. It does not matter a hoot what the mockingbird on the chimney is singing. The real and proper question is: Why is it beautiful?

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it’s at the end of your arm, as you get older, remember you have another hand: The first is to help yourself, the second is to help others.

The world’s biggest power is the youth and beauty of a woman.

It seems the older you get, the more life comes into focus.

No traveler, whether a tree lover or not, will ever forget his first walk in a sugar-pine forest. The majestic crowns approaching one another make a glorious canopy, through the feathery arches of which the sunbeams pour, silvering the needles and gilding the stately columns and the ground into a scene of enchantment.

For a young person, it is almost a sin, or at least a danger, to be too preoccupied with himself; but for the ageing person, it is a duty and a necessity to devote serious attention to himself.

The secret of ugliness consists not in irregularity, but in being uninteresting.

Getting older is no problem. You just have to live long enough.

The artist forges himself to the others, midway between the beauty he cannot do without and the community he cannot tear himself away from. That is why true artists scorn nothing: they are obliged to understand rather than to judge.

I like to feel blonde all over.

Some people spend their lives building ultimate dream homes so they can enjoy their twilight years… Others spend their last days in nursing homes.