Quotes About Ephemeral

and then he could not see her come into a room without a sense of the flowing of robes, of the flowering of blossoms, of the purple waves of the sea, of all things that are lovely and mutable on the surface but still and passionate in their heart.

these errand-boys and furtive and fugitive girls who, ignoring their doom, look in at shop windows? But I am aware of our ephemeral passage.

I am clouded and bruised with the print of minds and faces and things so subtle that they have smell, colour, texture, substance, but no name.

So loveliness reigned and stillness, and together made the shape of loveliness itself, a form from which life had parted; solitary like a pool at evening, far distant, seen from a train window, vanishing so quickly that the pool, pale in the evening, is scarcely robbed of its solitude, though once seen.

Here sitting on the world, she thought, for she could not shake herself from the sense that everything this morning was happening for the first time, perhaps for the last time, as a traveller, even though he is half asleep, knows, looking out of the train window, that he must look now, for he will never see that town, or that mule-cart, or that woman at work in the fields, again.

One rose leaf, falling from an enormous height, like a little parachute dropped from an invisible balloon, turns, flutters waveringly.

As for the beauty of women, it is like the light on the sea, never constant to a single wave. They all have it; they all lose it.

Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, a potting shed, a wall where peaches ripen, than to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.

Even if fall she must, it was to lie on the earth and moulder sweetly into the roots of violets.

Thats what makes a view so sad, and so beautiful. It'll be there when we're not.

Translating this to the spiritual regions as their wont is, the poets sang beautifully how roses fade and petals fall. The moment is brief they sang; the moment is over; one long night is then to be slept by all.

for the setting of her beauty was always that - hasty, but apt)...

People are so soon gone; let us catch them.

beauty glowing, suddenly expressive, withdrawn the moment after. No one can count on it or seize it or have it wrapped in paper. Nothing is to be won from the shops, and Heaven knows it would be better to sit at home than haunt the plate-glass windows in the hope of lifting the shining green, the glowing ruby, out of them alive.

What is meant by 'reality'? It would seem something very erratic, very undependable-now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now in a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying. It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech-and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Picadilly.

Essa rua espalhafatosa, alvoroçada e vulgar lembra-nos que a vida é uma luta; que toda construção é perecível; que toda exibição é vaidade.

The ghost of a roar of laughter came out to them, and was drowned at once in the wind.

Extraño; increíble; nunca había sido tan feliz. Nada parecía tener la suficiente lentitud; nada podía durar demasiado.

Tu È™i eu, È™i ea trecem È™i pierim; nimic nu d?inuie; totul se schimb?; în afar? de cuvinte È™i pictur?.

Nos han cortado, hemos caído. Nos hemos convertido en parte del insensible universo que duerme cuanto más despiertos estamos, y que arde, rojo, cuando nosotros yacemos dormidos. Hemos renunciado a nuestra sazón y ahora estamos tumbados, inertes, marchitos, y muy pronto seremos olvidados. Bernard

Dünyan?n öylesine çabuk yitip gidecek güzelliÄŸinin iki ucu vard?r, biri kahkaha diÄŸeri kederdir ve kalbi paramparça ederler.

As for the beauty of women, it is like the light on the sea, never constant to a single wave. They all have it; they all lose it. Now she is dull and thick as bacon; now transparent as a hanging glass.

light and evanescent but held together by bolts of iron

she could not shake herself free from the sense that everything this morning was happening for the first time, perhaps for the last time, as a traveller, even though he is half asleep, knows, looking out of the train window, that he must look now, for he will never see that town, or that mule-cart, or that woman at work in the fields, again.