Quotes About Ephemeral

The sweetness of love is short-lived, but the pain endures.

Mais tout restait dissous dans une délicatesse et une pâleur spectrales, exempt de toute ligne que l'Å"il aurait pu suivre avec certitude ; les contours des cimes se perdaient, s'embrumaient, s'en allaient en fumée.

immerse yourself in the great riddle of this dream of life here on earth. It is as nothing since it ends and dissolves into nothingness. Yet everywhere in this nothingness, quickening it to life, the infinite is at hand!

Oedipa wondered whether, at the end of this (if it were supposed to end), she too might not be left with only compiled memories of clues, announcements, intimations, but never the central truth itself, which must somehow each time be too bright for her memory to hold; which must always blaze out, destroying its own message irreversibly, leaving an overexposed blank when the ordinary world came back.

Doc remembered how Polaroids have no negatives and the life of the prints is limited. These, he noticed, were already beginning to shift color and fade.

Death glided by, shadowless, among the empties on the grass.

Sometimes it seemed to him that his life was delicate as a dandelion. One little puff from any direction, and it was blown to bits.

You begin to know that life is transient, and even at its longest, far too short.

But Time was a fickle ally, fleeting and inconstant

For every joy that passes, something beautiful remains.

Even then I'd begun to think—and to push away the thought—that committing oneself to being fashionable was simultaneously committing oneself to being perishable.

What they all knew was this: Life was fragile.

Memories, even your most precious ones, fade surprisingly quickly. But I don't go along with that. The memories I value most, I don't ever see them fading.

Everything isn't dead. Only gone.

Remember me when I am dead and simplify me when I'm dead.

Fame—fame was the anti-death. But it seemed to slither from his grasp, seemed to giggle and retreat, seemed to hide behind a huge oak tree and make farting sounds with its hands.

Jazz is there and gone. It happens. You have to be present for it. That simple.

Until I die again, perhaps. Until the next replay. Then it all vanishes." Jeff shook his head, his arm tightly around her shoulders. "Only the products of your work will disappear. The struggle, the devotion you put into your endeavors … That's where the value truly lies, and will remain: within you.

Instagram something with the intention of it being taken down by Instagram. Take a screenshot of it; keep a record of it. Instagram the screenshot. Screenshot that Instagram. If it is taken down again, repeat the process until all you're posting is a screenshot of a screenshot of a screenshot . . . of the original photo.

There are so many little dyings that it doesn't matter which of them is death.

Snow is the only one of us that leaves no tracks.

Imperceptible It withers in the world, This flower-like human heart.

The stars pass. The moon passes. Blue clouds pass above the mountains to the north. The years go by." Empress Jito

Part of the crucial, if sometimes ephemeral, political work that novels do is to transform noble and praiseworthy habits, beliefs, and actions into objects of scorn.