Quotes About Ephemerality

Days, months, years fly away, and irrecoverably sink in the abyss of time.

Like a flame is real enough, isn't it, while it's burning?-even if there's a time it goes out?

Time crumbles things everything grows old under the power of Time and is forgotten through the lapse of Time.

Time is that by which at every moment all things become as nothing in our hands, and thereby lose all their true value.

Her hands crept around his neck, tangling in his hair to keep him closer, even though she knew that beautiful boys with expiration dates couldn't be held, only borrowed for a time.

A blink of an eye is what separates you from reality.

Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its students."]

Pronaci cemo se.Onda kada i vreme zaboravi na nas.Pronaci ces me negde u sebi, tu gde se krijes iza laznih i prolaznih ociju.

Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its stud

But that's the trouble with moments—they end." ~Narrator

Time passes: yesterday has gone for ever but tomorrow never comes. Let's make the most of today.

And a moment that ought to have lasted for everHas come and gone before I knew.

Oh Time, you arise with parting! [? ?????, ?? ?? ???????!]- Vladislav Khalyavkin, The Operator

The magnitude of any one day is compromised by its passing quickly into the next, a mere moment in time which soon fades into the collective memory of our past.

Not all of the moments what you encountered in your mind are reminisced, the time will remember us.

Time is not ours and we would not own it. It does not wound us to say so.from the prose poem INNOCENCE

A moment in time consists of multiple moments.

All things flow nothing abides.

It's pretty scary to know how quickly time flies.

Mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust.

Time was going altogether too fast. Too wonderfully and too fast.

the sweetness had gone so quickly from her

And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old—or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.

Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!      What a task          to ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours,     and not by the century or the year, but by the hours. One