Evening comes; in haste come now the evenings, like old age comes stealthily and thieving, drawing nearer on tiptoe, all hidden, till it springs on on you all of sudden. Self-deceit is vain, there’s no denying: woe, we can’t help dying, can’t help dying!
Babits Mihály


Youth is the main course, old age is the dessert

How I met your mother