Quotes About Ephemeral

What if we're all like that? Like ghosts ... in someone's mind ... gradually fading ... fading ... until finally ... one day ... we just disappear ... drift into nothingness. Wouldn't that be sad?

All beauty is sad. [...] For it fades.

He thought to himself, I'll never be this perfect again, an idea that made him sad.

The fame of surgeons resembles the fame of actors, who live only during their lifetime and whose talent is no longer appreciable once they have disappeared.

Time is a thief. A killer. Time is killing him.

A brief life burns brightly.

Be nice to everyone, always smile & appreciate things because it could all be gone tomorrow.

Her smile was like a swift light passing across a darkened room.("Hair")

Nevertheless, 'stick lightly' they must, as 'possessions, situations and people' will keep slipping away and vanishing at a breathtaking speed whatever they do; whether they try to slow them down or not is neither here nor there. 'Let them go' they must (though, unlike Bill Gates, with hardly any pleasure), but whether they do it graciously or with a lot of wailing and teethgnashing is beside the point.

If all these people were dead, this festivity would be extremely agreeable.

There are no two hours alike. Every hour is unique and the only one given at the moment, exclusive and endlessly precious.

Force is all conquering, but it's victories are short lived.

For them, and for Homer, impermanence is life's central sorrow and the source of its most lasting pain.

Are you aware of the Japanese concept of mono no aware, the bitter sweetness of things?" "I'm afraid not." "The Japanese sages say the best way to appreciate beauty is to focus on its transient, fragile and fleeting nature.

But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.

Let death find us as we are building up our matchstick protests against its waves.

Artistic talent is like a brilliant firework which streaks across a pitch-black night, inspiring awe among onlookers but extinguishing itself in seconds, leaving behind only darkness and longing.

we shouldn't have needed the cataclysm to love life today. It would have been enough to think that we are humans, and that death may come this evening.

Compared to what is stirring in the galaxy, you and I are little more than motes of dust.

Compared to what is stirring in the galaxy, you and I are little more than motes of dust." Still

And I think of the night-blooming cereus, a plant that looks like a leathery weed most of the year. But for one night each summer its flower opens to reveal silky white petals, which encircle yellow lacelike threads, and another whole flower like a tiny sea anemone within the outer flower. By morning, the flower has shriveled. One night of the year, as delicate and fleeting as a life in the universe.

The catchers delight in the moment so frozen but soon discover that the nightingale expires, its clear flutelike song diminishes to silence, the trapped moment grows withered and without life.

caressing each moment as an emerald on temporary consignment.

Everyone went away. Everything vanished. People, places, turned to painful shadows of their former selves and then were put to sleep, just like the Boroughs had been.