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Old Man Quotes (page 11)

I'll be a story in your head. That's okay. We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? 'Cause it was, you know. It was the best. The daft old man who stole a magic box and ran away. Did I ever tell you that I stole it? Well I borrowed it. I was always going to take it back. Steven Moffat
Heck, can’t you even try to see it my way? You’ve got children of your own, but I’m older than you. When mine are grown I’ll be an old man if I’m still around, but right now I’m—if they don’t trust me they won’t trust anybody. Jem and Scout know what happened. If they hear of me saying downtown something different happened—Heck, I won’t have them any more. I can’t live one way in town and another way in my home. Harper Lee
Gilbert K. Chesterton quote: "And the second as an old man might say it about the weather;..."
And the second as an old man might say it about the weather; not without sincerity but certainly without fervour. Gilbert K. Chesterton
Me and my old man went on a coach trip to Switzerland and Italy once and it was a whole hour further on there. Must be something to do with this Common Market. I don't hold with the Common Market and nor does Mr. Curtain. England's good enough for me. Agatha Christie
But unless we determine to take action,' said the old man querulously, as if struggling against something deeply insouciant in his nature, 'then we shall all be destroyed, we shall all die. Surely we care about that?' 'Not enough to want to get killed over it,' said Ford. Douglas Adams
January. It was all things. And it was one thing, like a solid door. Its cold sealed the city in a gray capsule. January was moments, and January was a year. January rained the moments down, and froze them in her memory: [...]Every human action seemed to yield a magic. January was a two-faced month, jangling like jester's bells, crackling like snow crust, pure as any beginning, grim as an old man, mysteriously familiar yet unknown, like a word one can almost but not quite define. Patricia Highsmith
He was a good guy, my old man: simple, old-fashioned. Physically, he was built like a feather-weight, and he wore these thick, black Ronnie Barker glasses. He would say to me, Ozzy Osbourne
Photography is essentially an act of recognition by street photographers, not an act of invention. Photographers might respond to an old man’s face, or an Arbus freak, or the way light hits a building—and then they move on. Whereas in all the other art forms, take William Blake, everything that came to that paper never existed before. It’s the idea of alchemy, of making something from nothing. Duane Michals
What was that?" Belgarath asked, coming back around the corner."Brill," Silk replied blandly, pulling his Murgo robe back on."Again?" Belgarath demanded with exasperation. "What was he doing this time?"Trying to fly, last time I saw him." Silk smirked. The old man looked puzzled."He wasn't doing it very well," Silk added. Belgarath shrugged. "Maybe it'll come to him in time."He doesn't really have all that much time." Silk glanced out over the edge."From far below - terribly far below - there... David Eddings
You marked the minutes," the old man said. "But did you use them wisely? To be still? To cherish? To be grateful? To lift and be lifted? Mitch Albom
Thou hast but enraged, not insulted me, sir; but for that I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck; thou wouldst but laugh; but let Ahab beware of Ahab; beware of thyself, old man. Herman Melville
Then the Old Man of the Earth stooped over the floor of the cave, raised a huge stone from it, and left it leaning. It disclosed a great hole that went plumb-down. That is the way," he said. But there are no stairs." You must throw yourself in. There is no other way. George MacDonald
Surely there can't be so many countries worth dying for.'Anything worth living for,' said Nately, 'is worth dying for.'And anything worth dying for,' answered the sacrilegious old man, 'is certainly worth living for. Joseph Heller
But the fact of it was that I liked it out there, a ruin devoid of human vanities, clean of human illusions, an empty place reclaimed by the weather where a woman plays an organ to stop the wind's whining and an old man plays ball with a dog named Duke. I could tell you that I came back because I had promises to keep, but maybe it was because nobody asked me to stay. Joan Didion
Before she continued her search she sat in his revolving desk chair, and wept for the passing of time, and the necessary death of the well-loved, wise old man. Robertson Davies

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