Quotes About Ephemeral

Some of us will be long forgotten before we are even dead. Most will never be remembered at all, not even by family.

You may be anybody now. One day, you will be just a faded memory.

Because in the end, we die. It's like Chekhov observed in so many of his plays: 'in two hundred years, no one will even know we were here.

LIFE IS LIKE A FRESH DAY, DEATH IS THE NIGHT WHEN THE DAY ENDS.

Life is but an empty dream

Time is ticking, and your online twinkling is limited.

Memories, like everything else, are momentary.

Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can get.

Don't forget to thank everyday for the good things in life. They can disappear in the blink of an eye.

Death or Samadhi, man's life leads only to the grave. Appreciate your life.

Life is but a breath.The end of life is the last breath of a man.

What a strange thing!to be alivebeneath cherry blossoms.

Sooner or later we're all gone, so no one bothers getting attached.

Life is too short, too precious, too painful to waste on worldly bubbles that burst

Time is at once the most valuable and the most perishable of all our possessions.

The growth patterns of mushrooms are difficult to view since they come and go so quickly, appearing and disappearing overnight as if by magic. Their apparent lack of seed is another feature that was likely observed by early peoples who encountered them, perhaps providing further mystery as to the origin of the strange organisms.

All books are divisible into two classes: the books of the hour, and the books of all time.

A state of exalted pleasure lasts only moments or in some cases, and with some intermissions, hours or days, and is the occasional brilliant flash of enjoyment, not its permanent and steady flame.

The days are short The sun a spark Hung thin between The dark and dark.

We come and go just like ripples in a stream.

Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.

All the flowers of the spring Meet to perfume our burying; These have but their growing prime, And man does flourish but his time. Survey our progress from our birth: We are set, we grow, we turn to earth.

But for a little while," Francine said, "you will be here;

novelty is a wonderfully short-lived thing.