What scares you about getting older?

One by one the more vigorous sports and exacting games fall away. Exceptional exertions are purchased only by a more pronounced and more prolonged fatigue. Muscles may relax, and feet and hands slow down; the nerve of youth and manhood may become less trusty. But painting is a friend who makes no undue demands, excites to no exhausting pursuits, keeps faithful pace even with feeble steps, and holds her canvas as a screen between us and the envious eyes of Time or the surly advance of Decrepitude. Happy are the painters, for they shall not be lonely.

Certainly not. As a young child, I remember just dreaming about the Nobel Prize, but that was just a dream. It’s not something I would have ever thought was possible for me.

The fact that I smoke.

Pain and loneliness.

Not feeling old but everyone treating you that way.

The inability to do things for myself.

Losing my mind.

Nothing. I love getting old – I love the freedom it allows you.

Instead of saying, “I tripped up”, you have to use the words, “I had a fall.”

Losing the people that I love.

Not knowing who my family are.

I don’t want to get into an early death spiral, when you’re scaling down your life unnecessarily because you’ve already been there or done that. I never want to stop adventuring.

Nothing. I’m curious how things will evolve.

Running out of time.