Life is a process during which one initially gets less and less dependent, independent, and then more and more dependent.

These trembling hands no longer have the confidence it exuded a few years ago. Hope has been extinguished and uncertainty is what remains for the rest of my days now.

Death would not surprise us as often as it does, if we let go of the misbelief that newborns are less mortal than the elderly.

Some social ills are preserved by the common misbelief that things such as ignorance, greed, and stupidity do not have the stamina required to reach old age.

Not a few millions of parents strongly hope that their own children will step in by instantly becoming their own parents’ foster parents, if and when the parents reach their second childhood.

We envy people who are extremely old because we wish to live that long, not because we want to be that old.