Wrinkles Quotes

Make new friends, but keep the old; Those are silver, these are gold. New-made friendships, like new wine, Age will mellow and refine. Friendships that have stood the test - Time and change - are surely best; Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray, Friendship never knows decay. For 'mid old friends, tried and true, Once more we our youth renew. But old friends, alas! may die, New friends must their place supply. Cherish friendship in your breast- New is good, but old is best; Make new friends, but keep the old; Those are silver, these are gold.

We have to be able to grow up. Our wrinkles are our medals of the passage of life. They are what we have been through and who we want to be.

Wrinkles will only go where the smiles have been.

If you don't have wrinkles, you haven't laughed enough.

The years wrinkle our skin, but lack of enthusiasm wrinkles our soul.

Your wrinkles either show that you're nasty, cranky, and senile, or that you're always smiling.

Wrinkles are hereditary. Parents get them from their children.

Years wrinkle the skin. Giving up wrinkles the soul.

When I get older, I don't think I'll like to have wrinkles, or a big jelly belly. I cannot have it.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant loosing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

In District 12, looking old is something of an achievement since so many people die early. You see an elderly person, you want to congratulate them on their longevity, ask the secret of survival. A plump person is envied because they aren't scraping by like the majority of us. But here is different. Wrinkles aren't desirable. A round belly isn't a sign of success.

Older women know who they are, and that makes them more beautiful than younger ones. I like to see a face with some character. I want to see lines. I want to see wrinkles.

Jewelry takes people's minds off your wrinkles.

And that love that wrinkles your nose touches my foolish heart.

Everything is a self-portrait. A diary. Your whole drug history’s in a strand of your hair. Your fingernails. The forensic details. The lining of your stomach is a document. The calluses on your hand tell all your secrets. Your teeth give you away. Your accent. The wrinkles around your mouth and eyes. Everything you do shows your hand.

Wrinkles are engraved smiles.

I quite enjoy the lines on my forehead because they show my life. That’s my history and I like to see that in other people. Like this wrinkle is due to some girl who broke my heart. I don’t want to escape it in any way.

I enjoy my wrinkles and regard them as badges of distinction - I've worked hard for them!

I'm pretty sure that eating chocolate keeps wrinkles away because I have never seen a 10 year old with a Hershey bar and crows feet.

Age should not have its face lifted, but it should rather teach the world to admire wrinkles as the etchings of experience and the firm line of character.

If you really didn't ever want to get wrinkles, then you should have stopped smiling years ago!

Don't think of it as wrinkles. Think of ot as relaxed-fit skin.

Age imprints more wrinkles in the mind than it does on the face.

As the years go on, you see changes in yourself, but you've got to face that - everyone goes through it... Either you have to face up to it and tell yourself you're not going to be eighteen all your life, or be prepared for a terrible shock when you see the wrinkles and white hair. Getting older doesn't frighten me, but I wish I didn't have to because I like life a lot.

I've seen my grandmothers grow old and they are so beautiful, every wrinkle in their face tells a story. I want to feel that in 30 years. I would always choose that kind of beauty over that comes from having too much done to yourself.

Let the labyrinth of wrinkles be furrowed in my brow with the red-hot iron of my own life,
let my hair whiten and my step become vacillating,
on condition that I can save the intelligence of my soul - let my unformed childhood soul,
as it ages,
assume the rational and esthetic forms of an architecture,
let me learn just everything that others cannot teach me,
what only life would be capable of marking deeply in my skin!

A few years ago I met an old professor at the University of Notre Dame. Looking back on his long life of teaching, he said with a funny wrinkle in his eyes: I have always been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I slowly discovered that my interruptions were my work.

Scar tissue has no character. It's not like skin. It doesn't show age or illness or pallor or tan. It has no pores, no hair, no wrinkles. It's like a slip cover. It shields and disguises what's beneath. That's why we grow it; we have something to hide.

My childhood is very vivid to me, and I don't feel very different now from the way I felt then. It would appear I am the very same person, only with wrinkles.

Beauty is but a flower, which wrinkles will devour.

Though my muscles may stiffen, though my skin may wrinkle, may I never find myself yawning at life.

It takes a lot of bravery to be authentic and honest and to take that social mask off in order to connect with another human being. So much of what makes us who we are is smoothed away online. And what truly connects us is the wrinkles, not the smoothness.

Jewellery takes people's minds off your wrinkles.

Are you in a hurry, flurried, distressed? Look up! See the Man in the Glory! Let the face of Jesus shine upon you—the face of the Lord Jesus Christ. Is He worried, troubled, distressed? There is no wrinkle on His brow, no least shade of anxiety. Yet the affairs are His as much as yours.

In the central place of every heart, there is a recording chamber; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer and courage, you are young.

Time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colors to a fast friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor misery, nor place, nor destiny, can alter or diminish

Before I write down one word, I have to have the character in my mind through and through. I must penetrate into the last wrinkle of his soul.

For a moment man is a boy, for a moment a lovesick youth, for a moment bereft of wealth, for a moment in the height of prosperity; then at life's end with limbs worn out by old age and wrinkles adorning his face, like an actor he retires behind the curtain of death.

I don't think of getting older as looking better or worse; it's just different. You change, and that's OK. Life is about change. I don't have anxiety about it, so I'm not running to get Botox. Maybe that will change, but I don't think so. I feel comfortable in my skin and comfortable with ageing, so I think it's okay that I get wrinkles.

Since time immemorial, youth has set the universal standard of physical beauty, and the reason is simply that a shapely firm young face and body are more attractive sexually and aesthetically than bulges, sags and wrinkles.

He's so ugly. When you walked by him, your pants wrinkle. He made fly balls curve foul.

You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt, as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear.

Every generous illusion of youth leaves a wrinkle as it departs. Experience is the successive disenchanting of the things of life; it is reason enriched with the heart's spoils.

Decoration is just make-up for the wrinkles of the idea.

I only have one wrinkle and I'm sitting on it.

My golf swing is a bit like ironing a shirt. You get one side smoothed out, turn it over and there is a big wrinkle on the other side. Then you iron that one out, turn it over and there is yet another wrinkle.

We'll squeeze every second that we can from our lives, because we're young, and we have plenty of years to grow. We'll grow until we're braver. We'll grow until our bones ache and our skin wrinkles and our hair goes white, and until our hearts decide, at last, that it's time to stop.

A leaf that is destined to grow large is full of grooves and wrinkles at the start. Now if one has no patience and wants it smooth offhand like a willow leaf, there is trouble ahead.

As for wrinkles--Pshaw! Why shouldn't we have wrinkles? Honorable insignia of long service in this warfare.

I'll take my wrinkles. I don't like the Botox thing.