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Paulo Coelho: "Today is late Sunday and I just returned from the show of Madonna. And what did I see? A young 50 year-old dancing like a child, a queen, a teenager. It got me thinking about the fact that I believe we are aging differently from the previous generations. I remember for instance my parents at the age of 50 and they were already old, and more importantly they considered themselves as already old."

 

Madonna

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Paulo Coelho: "Today is late Sunday and I just returned from the show of Madonna. And what did I see? A young 50 year-old dancing like a child, a queen, a teenager. It got me thinking about the fact that I believe we are aging differently from the previous generations. I remember for instance my parents at the age of 50 and they were already old, and more importantly they considered themselves as already old."

 

Madonna

 

Christoph Waltz: "It was fantastic (partying with Madonna). Everyone was there. I fought my way through because I mean, this is the hostess, the least I can do is thank her for the invitation. It was difficult, it took me about an hour and a half... In the end, I got there, and apparently I was standing right in front of her. You know, I looked for Madonna and there was this chick dancing, 'Where's Madonna?' (pointing at the girl). That was her, she was dancing like... I thought she was, you know, 23-24."

 

Madonna Ciccone

 

Christoph Waltz: "It was fantastic (partying with Madonna). Everyone was there. I fought my way through because I mean, this is the hostess, the least I can do is thank her for the invitation. It was difficult, it took me about an hour and a half... In the end, I got there, and apparently I was standing right in front of her. You know, I looked for Madonna and there was this chick dancing, 'Where's Madonna?' (pointing at the girl). That was her, she was dancing like... I thought she was, you know, 23-24."

 

Madonna

 

When he and his family moved to a new house a few blocks away, his wife gave him written directions on how to reach it, since she knew he was absent-minded. But when he was leaving his office at the end of the day, he couldn't remember where he put her note, and he couldn't remember where the new house was. So he drove to his old neighborhood instead. He saw a young child and asked her, "Little girl, can you tell me where the Wieners moved?" "Yes, Daddy," came the reply, "Mommy said you'd probably be here, so she sent me to show you the way home".

 

Norbert Wiener

 

It is now about four years since the idea came to me of wanting to try my hand as an author. I remember it very clearly. It was on a Sunday; yes, correct, it was a Sunday afternoon. As usual, I was sitting outside the café in Frederiksberg Gardens, that wonderful garden which, for the child, was an enchanted land where the king lived with the queen; that lovely garden which, for the youth, was a pleasant diversion in the happy gaiety of the populace; that friendly garden which, for the adult, is so cozy in its wistful elevation above the world and which belongs to the world; that garden where even the envied glory of royalty is what it indeed is out there-a queen’s recollection of her late lord. There as usual I sat and smoked my cigar. Regrettably, the only similarity I have been able to detect between the beginning of my fragment of philosophic endeavor and the miraculous beginning of that poetic hero is that it was a public place. Otherwise there is no similarity at all, and although I am the author of Fragments, I am so insignificant that I am an outsider in literature. I have not even added to subscription literature, nor can it truthfully be said that I have a significant place in it. I have been a student for half a score years. Although I was never lazy, all my activity was nevertheless only like a splendid inactivity, a kind of occupation I still much prefer and for which perhaps I have a little genius. I read a great deal, spent the rest of the day loafing or thinking, or thinking and loafing, but nothing came of it. The productive sprout in me went for everyday use and was consumed in its first gleaming.

 

Soren Aabye Kierkegaard