No hard or scientifically gathered evidence ties them to the crime. A bludgeoning is an extremely bloody way to kill. It goes, almost without saying, that for one to bludgeon three different people to death and leave no trace of blood in the scalp or anywhere else on his face is unlikely. Showering would not be sufficient.
If you are looking for quotes about specific ages — that is, years or decades of life — scroll down to the bottom third of the page "Specific Years of Age" which covers everything from early childhood to late life, with an emphasis on middle-age years.
The "this many years old" quotes can be great for making birthday cards match the specific number of candles on the cake. Please enjoy the quotes, and I'll keep adding them as I tick-tock the years away reading at arms' length old books!
Those who call it so have found all stages of life unwelcome, thanks to their mishandling of life, not to a particular age. The soul should have its own cycles and revolutions, presenting in turn every portion of its existence to the vivifying influence of the great source of light.
I read my years in my mirror, others read them on my brow. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. White Wrinkles should merely indicate where the smiles have been.
Hearts grow cold with care, and the life He gives, too often seems buried, because of the load of earthly thought above it; and then we appear to ourselves to live to this world, whilst the things of this world crowd upon us But where the will is stedfast, and sin withstood, the true life springs forth again as the earthly tabernacle decays.
Old age is a blessed time. It gives us leisure to put off our earthly garments one by one, and dress ourselves for Heaven.
In the years that lay before us, Half seen through the distant haze, The winters grew drearily longer And briefer the summer days.
Hunter, "How to Keep Young," Health Magazine, October On the other hand, as the years increase, things look smaller, one and all; and Life, which had so firm and stable a base in the days of our youth, now seems nothing but a rapid flight of moments, every one of them illusory Bailey Saunders, Youth is a wonderful thing.
What a crime to waste it on children. It is a privilege denied to many. A man's age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.
With such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life.
It is sad to go to pieces like this, but we all have to do it. Disraeli's Lothair," Years ago we discovered the exact point, the dead center of middle age. It occurs when you are too young to take up golf and too old to rush to the net.
In the latitude of forty, human beings become human for the first time, and realise the impotence of being earnest. They make up for the time lost in being young by being young, although no longer young. They are neither young nor old, callow nor sallow, foolish nor mulish, puerile nor senile, half-baked nor fully cooked.
They pause in their flight, and for a moment call a strike against the tyrant Time. They are for the nonce as ageless as Julius Caesar's unformed thoughts and their emotions are as piquant as a pickled pin-cushion. Middle-age is neither muddle-age nor fuddle-age—it is the age of reason defying "reason"; the age when man sees himself as mothers see him; thin on top and plump beneath, slightly gone in wind and teeth, caring naught for looks or "lacks," out to show that "tacks is tacks.
For example, I'm sitting here thinking how nice it is that wrinkles don't hurt. Priestly I still have a full deck; I just shuffle slower now. Father Time keeps pitching the years at us.
We swing and miss at a few. We hit a few out of the park. We try not to take any called strikes. The best is yet to be. You do not say it now, perhaps; but by and by, when the hair grows gray and the eyes grow dim and the young despair comes to curse the old age, you will say: How old are you—thirty, fifty, eighty?
What is that in immortality? It is the only pleasure I have left. That's why they invented death. I was so happy as a child.Welcome to my page of quotations about age, aging, and youth. Even though I've been collecting these since I was thirteen, I must admit that this page has grown quite a bit since my late thirties and early forties, when the subject suddenly became a .
A summary of Symbols in Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None. Learn exactly what happened in this chapter, scene, or section of And Then There Were None and what it means.
Perfect for acing essays, tests, and quizzes, as well as for writing lesson plans. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is a work of detective fiction by British writer Agatha Christie, first published in June in the United Kingdom by William Collins, Sons and in the United States by Dodd, Mead and Company on 19 June It is the third novel to feature Hercule Poirot as the lead detective..
Poirot retires to a village near the home of a friend he met in London, Roger Ackroyd. Further Study. Test your knowledge of And Then There Were None with our quizzes and study questions, or go further with essays on the context and background and links to the best resources around the web.
A summary of Symbols in Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None.
Learn exactly what happened in this chapter, scene, or section of And Then There Were None and what it means. Perfect for acing essays, tests, and quizzes, as well as for writing lesson plans.
The bat turned a shade of octarine and tried again. “If you must have it in inside-the-car terms, here’s how to get out of the car.
There is an image in your windshield, but you’re always disregarding it.