Quotes About Ephemerality

Not like we were going to be forever. I mean, who would dare think that, forever? Some idiot girl who wouldn't know how things played out.

Even when months and days are long, life is short.

Summer's lease hath all too short a date.

An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay, And glides in modest innocence away.

Both past and future were disappearing from them, the past because nobody would remember it, the future because nobody could imagine it.

Nothing but water -- an ever-moving swell; nothing but waves, swiftly forming and instantly dying; nothing but depths; dark, fathomless depths; and nothing but sky, scudding white clouds, puffy and intangible. This was the living world, nothing besides, nothing else but sea. No winter or summer, no hills or ravines.

All things in this world change and pass away— some after many years, some overnight.

Time constricts and flattens, you know. It's not evenly weighted. Certain moments linger in the mind and others disappear.

Days were ages. Loved bloomed and died in a day.

Por felicidad, no alcanzo a entender nada que dure más de un segundo, puede que dos o tres como máximo.

We are bad at time, too. We cannot remember what lived here before we did; we cannot love what is not. Nor can we imagine what will be different when we are dead.

We catch only glimpses of life. Death is the one thing we really have time to see. A day is coming when I shall be no more. I am crying because I shall surely die.

Photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again.

Life is so short, So Fast The Lone Hours Fly, We Ought To Be Together, You and I

But live while you live, tomorrow you die...

Everything is indefinite, misty, and transient; only virtue is clear, and it cannot be destroyed by any force. —MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO

We are so lightly here. It is in love that we are made. In love we disappear.

We are so lightly here. It is in love we are made. In love we disappear.

We lose everything because everything remains except us. And therefore any form of posterity may be an affront, and perhaps any memory, as well.

We begin to die with our first breath. Death is inside us, ticking closer, closer, with every beat of our heart. It is the end no man can escape

But the object cannot be allowed to escape from ephemerality or from fashion.

Fashion dies very young, so we must forgive it everything.

Don't regret your life, child, it will pass soon enough.

every moment you steal from the present is a moment you have lost for ever. There's only now.