Quotes About Ephemeral

And a cloud of enraptured, sporting, buzzing little creatures of silk-dust swept or hovered over the undulating picture.

Life shouldn't be easy to lose. It's everything we have. The only thing we have, really--then gone so fast.

Our affections as well as our bodies are in perpetual flux.

Don't ever promise to adore me forever. Let's keep the feeling that this love of ours is a love without tomorow.

Devenu chant, le cri n'est plus l'expression spontanée, éphémère et solitaire, d'un sentiment particulier; il prend langue avec l'universel.

Scoop a jar of water out of the ocean and put a lid on it," I tell them. "Study it in its segregated state. Where is the ocean in that jar? Where are the tides and the currents? Pour it back into the ocean and it returns to its integrated state. The temporary entity no longer exists.

Lo más importante de esta vida era que moríamos.

Plenty of organisms live for a season, in order for those who come next to have a chance, Mayflies, daffodils, the octopus. We can accept that?' 'Well, we're hardwired not to accept our own demise. Daffodils are a lot more chill about it.' 'Okay, but we can be like daffodils together.

Isn't it really true that life is so beautiful because it's so fleeting and fragile?

I know you may not stay with me forever," he said just last night, "but I'm so grateful to have you now, and for as long as you can stay.

She thought she need not worry about her youth; it wasted itself spontaneously, like sunshine elsewhere or firelight in an empty room.

There's something about a showgirl that always breaks my heart. Youth and beauty-they're such a short lease, girlie.

Everything's plastic, we're all going to die sooner or later, so what does it matter.

I kept imagining the end, the despair I would suffer when it came, and it made any happiness I had in the present seem not merely ephemeral, but doomed. Because the happier I allowed myself to be now, the more miserable I would be later.

Our little systems have their day.

Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.

Other life pulsed about them — and was gone.

Ah that such sweet things should be fleet,Such fleet things sweet!

We are not sure of sorrow; and joy was never sure; Today will die tomorrow; Time stoops to no man's lure.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

But I prefer the windy days, the days that strip me back, blasted, tossed, who knows where, imagine them, purple-red, silver-pink, natural confetti, thin, fragile, easily crushed and blackened, fading already wherever the air's taken them across the city, the car parks, the streets, the ragged grass verges, dog-ear and adrift on the surfaces of the puddles, flat to the gutter stones, mixing with the litter, their shards of colour circling in the leafy-grimy corners of yards.

You can't put a pin through a summer.

The nights are sooner, chillier, the light a little less each time.

I would give anything to taste. To taste just dust. Because now that I'm nearly gone, I'm more here than I ever was. Now that I'm nothing but air, all I want is to breathe it. Now that I'm silent forever, haha, it's all words words words with me. Now that I can't just reach out and touch, it's all I want, is to.