Quotes About Ephemeral

Quoting Goethe :) "We lay aside letters never to read them again, and at last destroy them out of discretion, and so disappears the most beautiful, the most immediate breath of life, irrecoverably for ourselves and for others.

A feather on a breeze," Wash said, then frowned. "Something like that, at any rate. There may be a better analogy.

I could now look down at ghostly fingers, wraith-like toes, and a phantom wang.

Life was merely a momentary act of resistance, while death was the ultimate champion. Ah,

We are players in search of a world as often as we are world in search of players, and sometimes we are both at once. Some worlds pass quickly into existence, and quickly out of it. Some sustain themselves for longer periods, but no world lasts forever.

One should not believe too strongly in a life which can easily vanish.

One should not believe too easily in a life which can easily vanish.

Dust is watching life's talk show.

Absence, with all its pains, is, by this charming moment, wiped away.

The story of Harold Ross, the New Yorker and me is a mere footnote to the story of our time, and we might as well face the truth that to researchers of the future, poking about among the ruins of time, we shall all be tiny glitters. But then, so are diamonds.

Even the tiniest things mean something. Whenever you see flies or insects in a still life—a wilted petal, a black spot on the apple—the painter is giving you a secret message. He's telling you that living things don't last—it's all temporary. Death in life. That's why they're called natures mortes. Maybe you don't see it at first with all the beauty and bloom, the little speck of rot. But if you look closer—there it is.

living things don't last—it's all temporary. Death in life. That's why they're called natures mortes. Maybe you don't see it at first with all the beauty and bloom, the little speck of rot. But if you look closer—there it is.

That life—whatever else it is—is short.

A teahouse amid the cherry blossoms, on the way to death. p136

You could grasp it in an instant, you could live in it forever.

They want it all as detailed as possible because even the tiniest things mean something. Whenever you see flies or insects in a still life -- a wilted petal, a black spot on the apple -- the painter is giving you a secret message. He's telling you that living things don't last -- it's all temporary. Death in life. That's why they're called natures mortes. Maybe you don't see it at first with all the beauty and bloom, the little speck of rot. But if you look closer -- there it is.

Tempus fugit. See fugitib nii, et vähe pole.

I was born when he kissed me, I died when he left me, I lived a few weeks while he loved me

She did not grudge him his entertainment; being old enough to know that even the most crashing social bricks make but a small ripple in the ocean of time, which quickly dies away.

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.

You can't take it with you, and even if you did, it would probably melt.

And any small moments of intense, flaring beauty such as this morning's will be utterly forgotten, dissolved by time like a super-8 film left out in the rain, without sound, and quickly replaced by thousands of silently growing trees.

Nothing very very good and nothing very very bad ever lasts for very very long

Fortune makes promises to many, keeps them to none. Live for each day, live for the hours, since nothing is forever yours.