Quotes About Ephemeral

Of all the mortals on the earth, there are only a few the gods will ever hear of. Consider the practicalities. By the time we learn their names, they are dead. They must be meteors indeed to catch our attention. The merely good: you are dust to us.

some people are like constellations that only touch the earth for a season.

We are men only, a brief flare of the torch. Those to come may raise us or lower us as they please.

By the time we learn their names, they are dead. They must be meteors indeed to catch our attention. The merely good: you are dust to us.

We cannot say. We are men only, a brief flare of the torch.

Memories were built of air, and blew away.

How paltry are the traces left behind by a life, even one concentrated around those supposed things of permanence called words. We spend our time upon the earth and then disappear, and only one one-thousandth of what we were lasts. We send all those bottles out into the ocean and so few wash up on shore.

Everything published goes down the same chute out of the overbright glare of publicity into oblivion.

Desprecio la popularidad efímera

I am a mushroom On whom the dew of heaven drops now and then.

moments one knows only death will obliterate.

Oh, you're like mercury. You won't be picked up.

a cloud, it would

The I is a thing of the moment, and yet our lives are ruled by it. We cannot rid ourselves of this non-existent thing.

we have become a nation of ten-minute celebrities. People, issues and causes hit the charts like rock groups, and with approximately as much staying power.

Sic transit gloria mundi.

I keep saying it and saying it. They publish your novel, they make your screenplay—these books and movies go away. You take your bad reviews with the good ones, or you win an Oscar; whatever happens, it doesn't stay. But

Here lies one whose name was writ on water.

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget...

What is this world's delight, Lightening that mocks the night, Brief as even as bright

But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet ..Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

How light Must dreams themselves be; seeing they're more slight Than the mere nothing that engenders them!

This is a mere matter of the moment. I think I shall be among the English poets after my death.

Nothing endures, not a tree, not love, not even a death by violence.