Quotes About Ephemeral

When a man walks into a room and you shake hands with him, you do not feel that you are shaking hands with him. Death changes that. This is the body of X, not this is X. The syntax is entirely different. Now we are talking about two things instead of one, implying that the man continues to exist, but only as an idea, a cluster of images and memories in the minds of the other people. As for the body, it is no more than flesh and bones, a heap of pure matter.

He finds a fresh sheet of paper. He lays it out on the table before him and writes these words with his pen. It was. It will never be again. Remember.

Everything can change at any moment, suddenly and forever.

Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you mustn't waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it.

La petite mort' and 'la grande mort' within ten seconds of each other—coming and going in the space of three short breaths.

Il mondo é solido per un periodo, poi una mattina esce il sole e si scioglie.

Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really...How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.

Although it comes only for a few minutes in most cases, its bloom endures and

This shitty world sometimes produces a rose The scent of it lingers and then it just goes

What is will not last forever.

We mourn the transitory things and fret under the yoke of the immutable ones.

Thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return.

exactly half the phenomenal world is gone

only the vanished truly leave their mark. And

The things of the world knew so much more than we did and lived them more truly. The thorn trees had no grief or fear. The constellations didn't fight or hold themselves back, nor did the translucent hook of the moon. Everything was momentary and endless.

There was a feeling, as you sat and ate your nice sandwich or had your tea, that you were on the slowly tipping edge of nothingness and might fall forward at any moment, and that if you did, it was possible that nothing would know you'd ever been there at all. Jim

would all trickle through my fingers like so much red dust, for as long as childhood lasted it was a heaven fitted

The past doesn't go away. You just can't see it anymore.

Who cares for your fashions and your wars and your causes? I will shortly be gone and I have seen many fashions come and go and many causes so passionately defended only to be forgotten. But now it was different and he was drawn back into the stream of being because there was once again a life in his hands. Things mattered. The

How can you compare the flower buds of a tree in spring to the amazing lush greenery of summer, to the fiery leaves of autumn, to the stark chiaroscuro of winter? We understand those changes are irrevocable, and each one delights in its own way.

The Field of Mars, June, death, life, white nights, Dasha, Dimitri, the all came… And went. But there Alexander still was, standing on that street, on that curb, in the sun, looking at her under the elms, looking at provenance across from him provenance in a white dress with red roses, licking her ice cream with red lips, singing. His and only his for one hundred minutes, blink of an eye and gone. It all was.

o tempo entre o sopro e o apagar da vela

Essa vida é uma viagem pena eu estar só de passagem

grato pela graça a graça que eu acho em tudo que fica por tudo que passa