“When I am an old woman I shall wear purple with a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandles, and say we've no money for butter.I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bellsAnd run my stick along the public railingsAnd make up for the sobriety of my youth.I shall go out in my slippers in the rainand pick flowers in other people's gardensAnd learn to spit.You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fatAnd eat three pounds of sausages at a goOr only bread and pickle for a weekAnd hoard pens and pencils and beer mats and things in boxes.But now we must have clothes that keep us dryAnd pay our rent and not swear in the streetAnd set a good example for the children.”

“Warning, When I'm An Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple!”

“I grow old … I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.”

“I grow old … I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.”

“In spite of everything, I shall rise again; I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing.”

“When I am old I shall wear midnight.”