54.14.2 (to Furia; tr. W.H. Fremantle et al.):
His hair is already gray, his knees tremble, his teeth fall out, his brow is furrowed through years, death is near even at the doors, the pyre is all but laid out hard by. Whether we like it or not, we grow old.
iam incanuit caput, tremunt genua, dentes cadunt "et frontem obscenam rugis arat," vicina est mors in foribus, designatur rogus prope: velimus nolimus, senes sumus.
et frontem obscenam rugis arat: Vergil, Aeneid
7.417 (sc. Allecto, disguising herself as an old woman).