“You aren’t old enough to have such regrets.”
“Pain doesn’t respect age, my lady.”

“Resist. Come, you’re tough enough, my lady, aren’t you, if you beg for death rather than inflict evil?”

“Youth is a blunder; manhood a struggle; old age a regret.”

“Ever since childhood I have suspected you get along better if you respect people’s ways and wishes regardless of your apparent relative strengths.
That doesn’t mean you let people walk on you. It doesn’t mean you eat their pain for them. You need to demand respect for yourself, too.”

“Respect old age!”

“My dear Alicia, of what a mistake were you guilty in marrying a man of his age! Just old enough to be formal, ungovernable, and to have the gout; too old to be agreeable, too young to die.”

“What could be more beautiful than a dear old lady growing wise with age? Every age can be enchanting, provided you live within it.”

“Nate: “And,” he said, “boys at twelve aren’t exactly slick with the ladies.”
Ruby: “’Slick with the ladies’?” I said. “Are you twelve?”

“Age is not a particularly interesting subject. Anyone can get old. All you have to do is live long enough.”

“I don’t think my sister is old enough to have sex.”

“V, she’s the same age you are.”

He frowned for a moment. Was she? Or had he been born first?”