“One day an army of gray-haired women may quietly take over the Earth!”

“She sat quietly in one corner of the sofa, the end of her sari drawn modestly over her hair. Like the motionless illusion of a madly spinning top, she was staring vacantly into space.”

“Not a day passes over the earth, but men and women of no note do great deeds, speak great words, and suffer noble sorrows.”

“Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray, sculptured stones.”

“Oh, torture. Torture. My pubic hairs went gray.”

“The great motherhood friendships are the ones in which two women can admit [how difficult mothering is] quietly to each other, over cups of tea at a table sticky with spilled apple juice and littered with markers without tops.”

“Gray day. Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.”

“Quintus…” Geryon mused. “Short gray hair, muscular, swordsman?”
“Yeah.”
“Never heard of him”

“When one's head is gone one doesn't weep over one's hair!”

“Master Kingston, I see the matter against me now it is framed; but if I had served God as diligently as I have done the King He would not have given me over in my gray hairs.”