Monday, March 20, 2006


Birthday Greetings

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Journal D (1838-1839), 198:
After thirty a man wakes up sad every morning.
Albert Camus, The Plague (tr. S. Gilbert):
At thirty one's beginning to age, and one's got to squeeze all one can out of life.
Henri Troyat, Chekhov, tr. M.H. Heim (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1986), p. 288:
When we're young, we all chirp fervently like sparrows on a dung-heap, but we're old by the time we reach forty, and we start thinking of death.
Ogden Nash, Lines On Facing Forty:
I have a bone to pick with Fate.
Come here and tell me, girlie,
Do you think my mind is maturing late,
Or simply rotted early?
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground (tr. J. Coulson):
I am forty now, and forty years is a lifetime; it is extreme old age. To go on living after forty is unseemly, disgusting, immoral! Who goes on living after forty? Give me a sincere and honest answer! I'll tell you: fools and rogues.

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