Sofia Fishman

“And how are you?" said Winnie-the-Pooh.
Eeyore shook his head from side to side.
"Not very how," he said. "I don't seem to have felt at all how for a long time."
"Dear, dear," said Pooh, "I'm sorry about that. Let's have a look at you.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

“How old are you, anyway?” she asked, squinting at him.
There was a pause. At last he said, “Why do you want to know?”
“I just wondered,” said Winnie.
“All right. I’m one hundred and four years old,” he told her solemnly.
“No, I mean really,” she persisted.
“Well then,” he said, “if you must know, I’m seventeen.”
“Seventeen?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh,” said Winnie hopelessly. “Seventeen. That’s old.”
“You have no idea,” he agreed with a nod.
Winnie had the feeling he was laughing at her, but decided it was a nice kind of laughing. “Are you married?” she asked next.
This time he laughed out loud. “No, I’m not married. Are you?”
Now it was Winnie’s turn to laugh. “Of course not,” she said. “I’m only ten. But I’ll be eleven pretty soon.”
“And then you’ll get married,” he suggested.
Winnie laughed again, her head on one side, admiring him.”
― Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting

“Laters, baby.”
― E.L. James, Fifty Shades of Grey

“Levade had told her one day that there was no such thing as a coherent personality. When you are forty you have no cell in your body that you had at eighteen. It was the same, he said, with your character. Memory is the only thing that binds you to earlier selves; for the rest, you become an entirely different being every decade or so, sloughing off the old persona, renewing and moving on. You are not who you were, he told her, nor who you will be.”
― Sebastian Faulks