Quotes About Ephemeral

What is born will die, What has been gathered will be dispersed, What has been accumulated will be exhausted, What has been built up will collapse, And what has been high will be brought low.

Ere the dolphin dies Its hues are brightest. Like an infant's breath Are tropic winds before the voice of death.

Graveyards remind us of the vanity of all human endeavour.

The amazing miracle of death, when one second you're walking and talking, and the next second you're an object.

With every death, a world is disappearing.

"Death's a capricious thing, innit?" "Yes. Yes, she is."

Something was wrong with a world where people came and went so easily.

And he'd thought he was going to gorge himself. It was bursting time again. You great big infant. That you could still believe that it could go on forever. Maybe now you've got a better picture of what's up. Well, let it come. I know what's up. Let it come. Eat breakfast and go. This is amazing moment. It's over

No human thing is of serious importance.

the skull always grinned because it knew it would emerge triumphant, that it would comprise the sole identity of the face long after vain baubles like lips and skin and eyes were gone.

Unfortunately, mortal life is very fragile, and very short. Yours could be shorter than usual.

we're just paper on a shelf, in the end

Against this cosmic background the lifespan of a particular plant or animal appears, not as drama complete in itself, but only as a brief interlude in a panorama of endless change.

What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?

I suspected that what happens in hotel rooms rarely lasts outside of them. I suspected that when something was a beginning and an ending at the same time, that meant it could only exist in the present.

The thing I've found about exciting is that it's like fireworks. A big burst of color. It takes your breath away, and then nothing. But something that's always there, while it might not be as exciting, like the stars in the sky, they can still steal your breath.

She sat back, lifting away her hand. The ghost of its warmth remained on Aaron's skin.

She was plagued again by the feeling that the room in which she stood, the earth on which it was built, and the universe in which it turned were as insubstantial as smoke, subject to sudden change.

art is long and critics are the insects of a day.

The outrage vanished as quickly as it had come

For the French] time...is an ephemeral currency and should be spent doing the things that make life worth living.

That world! These days it's all been erased and they've rolled it up like a scroll and put it away somewhere. Yes, I can touch it with my fingers. But where is it?

We live in a world of disposable memory, nothing's built to last, not even shame.

We are not special. We are lit from within by a single candle flame and when that flame is blown out and all light leaves our eyes it is the same as if we never existed at all. We don't own our life. We rent it.