I wish wearing flat-irons on our heads would keep us from growing up. But buds will be roses, and kittens, cats,—more’s the pity!
I’m proud of myself because I’m onto a new thing. At 65, I’m different than I was. We’re all rethinking what we said 20 years ago, 10 years ago, four years ago. I’m not even rethinking it, I just don’t have the same way of doing humor or conversation.
I am basically just a nine-year-old boy that evolved.
If the boy is old enough to get a tattoo he is old enough to go alone.
The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.
If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I’ll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up. Not me! (“I Won’t Grow Up”)
Childhood is short, maturity is forever. (“Calvin and Hobbes”)
I do not think that I will ever reach a stage when I will say, “This is what I believe. Finished.” What I believe is alive… and open to growth.