When i grow old i ll wear purple
When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple by Sandra MartzThis enchanting collection of fiction, poetry, and photographs evokes the beauty, humor, and courage of women living in their later years. More than 1.7 million copies have been sold, thanks to its universal message of aging as a natural gift of life. Winner of the American Booksellers Book of the Year Honors Award (1991), and two Benjamin Franklin Awards: for design and content, literature (1988), and for excellence and innovation in marketing, literature (1992), When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple has been applauded for its honest and inspiring approach to the much neglected topic of aging. When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple has created a network of support and encouragement: the sixty-plus men and women whose work is included, the readers who have taken the time to share how the book has touched their lives, and the booksellers who have so graciously recommended it to buyers. Stories and poems such as Warning, Like Mother, Like Daughter, Love at Fifty, Near Places, Far Places, and Dear Paul Newman tell of the endearing moments of joy -- and passion -- to be found in the rich and varied world of midlife and beyond. This award-winning anthology has earned a word-of-mouth popularity because, as the Los Angeles Times said, the time is ripe for such a message.
“Warning” Poem by Jenny Joseph — “When I Grow Old, I Shall Wear Purple”
Despite the thousands of pages of women's magazines dedicated to moisturisers, anti-ageing creams and surgical enhancements, many women secretly look forward to growing older. Year after year, we've cared how we look, how we act, what we say, where we go, who we see, who sees us, and so on and so on. But through it all we're on a learning curve. We're learning not to care. As a birthday card I bought my sister recently said: "Can cook. Can't be arsed.
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speech on quaid e azam in urdu written
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me, And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired, And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells, And run my stick along the public railings, And make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain And pick the flowers in other people's gardens, And learn to spit. You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat, And eat three pounds of sausages at a go, Or only bread and pickle for a week, And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats and things in boxes. But now we must have clothes that keep us dry, And pay our rent and not swear in the street, And set a good example for the children. We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.