Marilyn Monroe: What about the difference in our ages?

Jack: Oh, it's not that big a difference. You're twenty-five and I'm thirty-nine.

I’m twenty-three and I sound like I’m fifty-five.

We are foolish and sentimental and melodramatic at twenty-five, but if we weren’t perhaps we should be less wise at fifty.

Between a man and a woman both aged fifty there are two full generations, for she might well wed a man in his seventies, and he a girl of twenty.

Looking fifty is great—if you're sixty.

The years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolve before the passive mind as one unexplained, confusing merry-go-round. True, they are a merry-go-round of ill-gaited and wind-broken horses, painted first in pastel colors, then in dull grays and browns, but perplexing and intolerably dizzy the thing is, as never were the merry-go-rounds of childhood or adolescence; as never, surely, were the certain-coursed, dynamic roller-coasters of youth. For most men and women these thirty years are taken up with a gradual withdrawal from life, a retreat first from a front with many shelters, those myriad amusements and curiosities of youth, to a line with less, when we peel down our ambitions to one ambition, our recreations to one recreation, our friends to a few to whom we are anaesthetic; ending up at last in a solitary, desolate strong point that is not strong, where the shells now whistle abominably, now are but half-heard as, by turns frightened and tired, we sit waiting for death.

Be glad you're fifty — and
That you got there while things were nice,
In a world worth looking at twice.
So here's wishing you many more years,
But not all that many. Cheers!

She thought of her own strength, and Juan's youth,
And of the folly of all prudish fears,
Victorious virtue, and domestic truth,
And then of Don Alfonso's fifty years:
[...]
When people say, "I've told you fifty times,"
They mean to scold, and very often do:
When poets say, "I've written fifty rhymes,"
They make you dread that they'll recite them too;
In gangs of fifty thieves commit their crimes:
At fifty love for love is rare, 'tis true,
But then, no doubt, it equally as true is,
A good deal may be bought for fifty louis.

It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before.

Punk:"In 50 years, your grandchildren will be asking you where you were when CM Punk beat the Undertaker's streak!"

You think you know what your life will be like thirty years from now and suddenly you’re doing something you couldn’t have planned five minutes ago.

Midnight passes and I'm twenty-five days and a million years from becoming a man.

I'm thirty-three for a moment,
I'm still the man, but you see I'm a "they"
A kid on the way, babe,
A family on my mind.
I'm forty-five for a moment,
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis,
Chasing the years of my life.