It's funny, there's all these slogans like 'you're never too old

The words of Diana Taurasi—“It’s funny, there’s all these slogans like ‘you’re never too old to keep dreaming.’ You know it’s funny how in the basketball world, and in the business world where you’re just supposed to stop. In the sports world, I feel like at 35 you’re just supposed to stop. If you do, that’s great.”—are not the musings of an athlete alone, but the lament and defiance of a warrior who has seen how the world builds walls around the spirit. In her reflection, there is irony and truth, weariness and fire. For she speaks of age, that illusion men have built to measure the worth of a dream. The ancients would have heard these words and nodded, knowing well that the body may tire, but the soul that dreams is ageless.

In this saying, Taurasi exposes the hypocrisy of her age—the world that chants “never too old” while secretly bowing to the tyranny of youth. In the arena of sport, as in the marketplace, there is a quiet law written in the dust: that past a certain year, one must step aside. Yet she, like the heroes of old, dares to question this decree. Her words carry the tone of rebellion—soft yet thunderous—against the idea that vitality has an expiration date. To her, continuing beyond the limit is not an act of stubbornness, but an act of faith in one’s own eternal flame.

Think of the great Leonidas of Sparta, who, though past his prime, stood with three hundred against a tide of thousands. He was not the youngest among them, yet his courage made him the measure of youth itself. Like Taurasi, he knew that strength is not only in the limbs but in the unyielding spirit that refuses to stop when the world says “enough.” The body bends, the hair grays, but the fire—if tended—burns brighter still. Age is no prison to those who serve their purpose with undying devotion.

Taurasi’s words also speak of resilience in the face of quiet surrender. She mocks gently the slogans that adorn our walls and advertisements—those hollow phrases that celebrate dreams while silently discouraging their pursuit past a certain time. She knows, as the ancients knew, that society often praises courage in words but punishes it in action. To continue at thirty-five, in a world that reveres the new, is to walk the path of the few—the path of those who fight not for glory, but for meaning.

There is an echo here of Socrates, who, when told he was too old to question the world, smiled and said, “I am not questioning—it is life that questions me.” The athlete, like the philosopher, must live in contradiction: to grow older, yet keep the heart young; to slow, yet move with purpose; to accept limits, yet strive beyond them. The world may call this defiance; the wise call it living truly.

From Taurasi’s truth, we may draw a lesson: that dreams are not measured by time, but by the persistence of those who carry them. If you are told you are too old to begin again, remember her voice. Remember that it is not youth that creates greatness, but consistency, courage, and conviction. Do not let the world’s timeline dictate your becoming. Each sunrise, whether at fifteen or fifty, is still an invitation to rise higher.

So, to all who walk the road of age and expectation, hear the teaching in her words. Do not stop because others have. Do not bow to the quiet tyranny of “should.” Instead, walk your path until it feels complete, not when it becomes convenient. The body will falter, yes, but the will that burns within you—that is the immortal part. Nourish it, and it will make even your last steps radiant.

For in the end, Diana Taurasi’s message is not about basketball at all—it is about the spirit of endurance and purpose. To live as she does is to remind the world that the divine spark does not age. The years may weigh upon your bones, but they cannot dim your calling. So dream, strive, create—and if at thirty-five, or fifty, or ninety, you still find joy in the struggle, then rejoice. For you have mastered not just your craft, but the art of being timeless.