No matter how old a mother is she watches her middle-aged children for signs of improvement.

The crucial task of old age is balance: keeping just well enough, just brave enough, just gay and interested and starkly honest enough to remain a sentient human being.

My kitchen linoleum is so black and shiny that I waltz while I wait for the kettle to boil. This pleasure is for the old who live alone.

It is not easy to be sure that being yourself is worth the trouble, but we do know it is our sacred duty.

No matter how old a mother is she watches her middle-aged children for signs of improvement.

Life does not accommodate you, it shatters you. It is meant to, and it couldn’t do it better. Every seed destroys its container or else there would be no fruition.

Age puzzles me. I thought it was a quiet time. My seventies were interesting and fairly serene, but my eighties are passionate. I grow more intense as I age.