Quotes About Ephemerality

It's funny how when you're a kid a day can last forever, and now all these years seem to pass like a blink of the eye.

Everything change in just the blink of an eye.

Life is too short. enjoy it while it is yours.

Death does not discriminate; Some die old, some at 8. So remember during all your grief, our visit here is very brief.

Time is priceless. You have it, but you don't own it. You spend it, but you can't keep it. And once it's gone, there's no getting it back. Use it wisely!

The dead last so short a time … Alas, in the coffin they crumble into dust, Less quickly than in our hearts!

Perhaps we shall lose them, perhaps they will be obliterated, if we return to nothing in the dust. But so long as we are alive, we can no more bring ourselves to a state in which we shall not have known them than we can with regard to any material object, than we can, for example, doubt the luminosity of a lamp that has just been lighted, in view of the changed aspect of everything in the room, from which has vanished even the memory of the darkness.

Look: each moment is a cradle and a casket: may all life and all death seem strange to you.

But look at how soon we're all forgotten. The abyss of endless time that swallows it all. The emptiness of all those applauding hands. The people who praise us - how capricious they are, how arbitrary. And the tiny region in which it all takes place. The whole earth a point in space - and most of it uninhabited.

Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.

Writing is a futile attempt to preserve what disappears moment by moment.

Schopenhauer once put it, we insist on living our lives "with great interest and much solicitude as long as possible, just as we blow out a soap-bubble as long and as large as possible, although with the perfect certainty that it will burst.

Kissing don't last: cookery do.

She knew her death was near because time had begun to fold like a fan so that the past and the present rubbed together in ways that made her feel supple and porous, as if time were moving through her body and not the other way around.

What is it about the human face that it should be the most memorable thing in existence and yet its atoms are the quickest to disperse?

Will the same day ever come back, and with it Our amazement at having been in it, or will only a dark haze Spread at the back of the mind, erasing events, one after The other, so brief they may have been lost to begin with?

How those fires burned that are no longer, how the weather worsened, how the shadow of the seagull vanished without a trace. Was it the end of a season, the end of a life? Was it so long ago it seems it might never have been? What is it in us that lives in the past and longs for the future, or lives in the future and longs for the past? (from "No Words Can Describe It")

That's how it always was and always will be, he thought a little bitterly. We come in with nothing, and we go out with nothing.

Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there's no room for the present at all.

Value the moment with the loved ones, because it doesn't last forever.

One night. It took one night to lose everything. But maybe everything was nothing if it could be lost so fast.

I know nothing. (based on James 4:14)

Meanwhile time goes about its immemorial work of making everyone look and feel like shit.

Listen, life is short, even at its longest, it's short.