I’m old, Gandalf. I know I don’t look it, but I’m beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel thin. Sort of stretched, like butter, scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don’t expect I shall return. In fact, I mean not to.
Book: “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring” by J.R.R. Tolkien
In case you’re worried about what’s going to become of the younger generation, it’s going to grow up and start worrying about the younger generation.
Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting out ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.