Victor Hugo On “Getting Old?”
March 12, 2025
Victor Hugo Museum. Paris. December, 2006 with Nancy
(Just stumbled across this; if the shoe fits, wear it – and it does. RJP)
GETTING OLD?
_”You’re getting old,” they told me, “you’re no longer yourself, you’re becoming bitter and lonely.”
No, I replied; I’m not getting old, I’m getting wise.
I stopped being what pleases others to become what I truly like to be. I stopped seeking others’ acceptance to accept myself. I left behind the deceitful mirrors that mercilessly lie.
No, I’m not getting old, I’m becoming assertive, selective about places, people, customs, and ideologies.
I let go of attachments, unnecessary pains, people, souls, and hearts—not out of bitterness, but simply for my well-being.
I traded nights of partying for insomnia filled with learning. I stopped living stories and started writing them. I abandoned imposed stereotypes. I stopped using makeup to hide my wounds—now I carry a book that beautifies my mind.
I swapped wine glasses for coffee cups, stopped idealizing life, and started living it.
No, I’m not getting old.
I carry freshness in my soul and the innocence of daily discovery in my heart.
I hold in my hands the tenderness of a cocoon that, upon opening, will spread its wings toward places unreachable for those who seek only material frivolity.
I wear on my face a mischievous smile as I observe the simplicity of nature, and in my ears, the cheerful chirping of birds accompanies my steps.
No, I’m not getting old—I’m becoming selective, investing my time in the intangible, rewriting the story once told to me, rediscovering worlds, rescuing those old books I had left unfinished.
I am growing wiser. I have abandoned outbursts that teach nothing. I am learning to speak of transcendent matters, cultivating knowledge, sowing ideals, and forging my destiny.
No, it’s not that I’m getting old because I go to bed early on Saturdays—it’s just that Sundays also deserve an early start, a slow coffee, and a peaceful poetry reading.
It’s not age that makes one walk slowly—it’s the desire to observe those who rush and stumble in their discontent.
It’s not age that makes one fall silent sometimes—it’s simply that not all words need to echo.
No, I’m not getting old—I’m finally starting to live what truly matters to me._
Victor Hugo
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View from the Left Bank: Rob Prince's Blog 
Love this, Rob. From one oldster to another, like Mehitabel the Cat from the story Archy & Mehitabel: “Toujours gai, toujours gai…” Victor’s take on the subject is inspiring and much appreciated. Thank you. Eileen Davis
Hi Eileen.
Warm regards