Quotes About Ephemerality

Love makes the time pass. Time makes love pass.

Short lived pleasure is the parent of pain.

Love makes time pass; time makes love pass.

Pleasure of love lasts but a moment, Pain of love lasts a lifetime.

Men are more evanescent than pictures, yet one sorrows for lost friends, and pictures are my friends. I have none others. I am never long enough with men to attach myself to them; and whatever feelings of attachment I have are to material things.

Love makes time pass, and time makes love pass

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes

The meaning of life is that it stops.

The stars flash out of the dark and disappear, but not for people to see. We're just people. And we flash into life and disappear, but not for the stars to see. They're just stars. How strange, strange, strange. Being alive, feeling, thinking __

In this world of ours, We eat only to cast out, Sleep only to wake, And what comes after all that Is simply to die at last.

Come, let's go Snow-viewing Till we're buried.

There are people who appear in the magazines and I don't know who they are. I've never seen anything they've done and their careers are over already. They're famous for maybe 10 minutes. Real careers, I think, take a long time to unfold.

Bands don't last. We'd have been a meteor shower. Over before we started. "Meteor showers are fucking beautiful.

As Emily Dickinson, eternally great poet and occasionally anxious agoraphobe, said: "That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.

And I felt an incredible excitement at being able to witness the love reemerge inside her, because it was a total, prime-of-life love. The kind that could only be possible in someone who was going to die at some point in the future, and also someone who had lived enough to know that loving and being loved back was a hard thing to get right, but when you managed it, you could see forever.

Past and future were myths. The past was just the present that had died and the future would never exist anyway, because by the time we got to it the future would have turned into the present.

We count the hours: these dreams of ours, false and hollow, Shall we go hence and find they are not dead?

What is the course of the life Of mortal men on the earth?-- Most men eddy about Here and there--eat and drink, Chatter and love and hate, Gather and squander, are raised Aloft, are hurl'd in the dust, Striving blindly, achieving Nothing; and, then they die-- Perish; and no one asks Who or what they have been, More than he asks what waves In the moonlit solitudes mild Of the midmost Ocean, have swell'd, Foam'd for a moment, and gone.

Everything comes to pass, nothing comes to stay.

The photograph keeps open the instants which the onrush of time closes up forthwith; it destroys the overtaking, the overlapping, the metamorphosis of time.

Time is but a phantom dagger That motion lifts to slay itself.

Omnia Mundi Fumus et Umbra

We're all dying from the moment we're born. That's all we do our entire lives, is die.