Quotes for Events - Turning 30

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Quotes for turning 30.

Thirty--the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning brief-case of enthusiasm, thinning hair.

But it’s hard to be hip over thirty / When everyone else is nineteen.
I remember the day I turned thirty. I was getting out of the shower and I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself for a long time. I examined every inch of my body and appreciated the fact that I finally looked like a grown woman. I also assumed that this was how I was going to look for the rest of my life. The way I saw it, I was never going to age ; I'd just look up one day and be old.
Looking at ourselves in cold, hard evolutionary terms, we are all relatively useless after 30. All a species needs to survive is to reproduce itself, which is easily possible at the age of 15, and fifteen years more to raise the next generation to reproductive age. Certainly by 40, when both the male testes and the female ovaries begin to show the changes of age, we are, from an evolutionary point of view, thoroughly disposable.
I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
Impatient with devoting ourselves to the "shoulds," a new vitality springs from within as we approach 30. Men and women alike speak of feeling too narrow and restricted. They blame all sorts of things, but what the restrictions boil down to are the outgrowth of career and personal choices of the twenties. They may have been choices perfectly suited to that stage. But now the fit feels different. Some inner aspect that was left out is striving to be taken into account. Important new choices must be made, and commitments altered or deepened. The work involves great change, turmoil, and often crisis--a simultaneous feeling of rock bottom and the urge to bust out.
I believe that as many women over thirty marry out of fear of being alone someday--not necessarily now but some day--as for love of or compatibility with a particular man. The plan seems to be to get someone while the getting's good and by the time you lose your looks he'll be too securely glued to you to get away. Isn't it silly? A man can leave a woman at fifty (though it may cost him some dough) as surely as you can leave dishes in the sink. . . . Then you have it all to do over again as if you hadn't gobbled him up in girlish haste.
Miranda in Miranda's sight Is old and gray and dirty; Twenty-nine she was last night; This morning she is thirty.
Thirty-one or fifty-one is much the same for a woman who has made up her mind to live alone and work steadily for a definite object.
Is your own character, at thirty, the same as it was when you were ten years younger? It will be better or worse in the measure that you have believed that disloyalty, wickedness, hatred and falsehood have triumphed in life, or goodness, and truth, and love.
I have never admitted that I am more than twenty-nine, or thirty at the most. Twenty-nine when there are pink shades, thirty when there are not.
The age of thirty is, for the workingman, just the beginning of a period of some stability, and as such one feels young and full of energy. But, at the same time, a period of life has passed, which makes one melancholy, thinking that some things will never come back.
In America, Newman reflected, lads of twenty-five and thirty have old heads and young hearts, or at least young morals; here [in Europe] they have young heads and very aged hearts, morals the most grizzled and wrinkled.
After thirty a man wakes up sad every morning excepting perhaps five or six until the day of his death.
It has . . . been asserted, by some naturalists, that men do not attain their full growth and strength till thirty; but that women arrive at maturity by twenty. I apprehend that they reason on false ground, led astray by the male prejudice, which deems beauty the perfection of woman . . . whilst male beauty is allowed to have some connection with the mind. Strength of body, and that character of countenance, which the French term a physionomie, women do not acquire before thirty, any more than men. The little artless tricks of children, it is true, are particularly pleasing and attractive; yet, when the pretty freshness of youth is worn off, these artless graces become studied airs, and disgust every person of taste.
It was my thirtieth Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon Though the town below lay leaved with October blood. O may my heart's truth Still be sung On this high hill in a year's turning.
people in their thirties, and the older ones, have gotten bad inside, like fruit that nobody eats and nobody wants, so it rots, but is not forgotten.
One's thirtieth birthday and one's seventieth are days that press their message home with iron hand. With his seventieth milestone past, a man feels that his work is done, and dim voices call to him from across the Unseen. His work is done, and so illy, compared with what he had wished and expected! But the impressions made upon his heart by the day are no deeper than those his thirtieth birthday inspires. At thirty, youth, with all it palliates and excuses, is gone forever. The time for mere fooling is past; the young avoid you, or else look up to you and tempt you to grow reminiscent. You are a man and must give an account of yourself.

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