Quotes About Fleeting

And since that is not how it has been for a long time, you want, this time, to make it last, this glistening one moment, this cool air, this new living, so that you can preserve a feeling of it, inasmuch as when it comes again it may just be too late. You may just be too old. And in truth, of course, this may be the last time that you will ever feel this way again.

If there's another thing that sportswriting teaches you, it is that there are no transcendent themes in life. In all cases things are here and they're over, and that has to be enough.

It was if we all sensed we'd be gone someday soon in a sudden instant--often it happened in the middle of the night--and didn't want to get involved. Or else it was that none of us wanted to know anybody later on who was the way we were now.

We're all alive the day before we die.

You lose the world for a glance? Of course you do. That is what the world is for: to lose under the right circunstances.

And everything you do, or might achieve thereafter, is thinner, weaker, matters less. There is no echo coming back; no texture, no resonance, no depth of field.

deliquescent.

Manchmal, sagte sie, gehen zwei Menschen aneinander vorbei, sehen sich kurz in die Augen, und alles, was bleibt, ist ein Wunsch. Ein Traum von dem, was hätte geschehen können. Und dann gehen sie mit jedem Schritt weiter voneinander fort und von all ihren Träumen.

There is a rare gentleness in you, the sweeter for its brief appearances.

Every day stole away more of her presence, leaving in its place faint wisps of memories devoid of color, scent, and sound.

That's when you fall in love with somebody. The lust and fucking like rabbits and letting your life fall to shit so you can be around him—that's passion. It's borderline obsession. And it always burns itself out. You know that, Liddie. That high never, ever lasts.

Happiness, like life itself, was as fragile as a bird's heartbeat, as fleeting as the bluebells in the wood, but while it lasted

Because that was how it happened: one moment you were there, laughing, talking, breathing, and the next you were gone. Forever. And there wasn't even a shape left in the world where you'd been, neither the trace of a smile nor the whisper of a word. Just nothing.

Happiness, like life itself, was as fragile as a bird's heartbeat, as fleeting as the bluebells in the wood, but while it lasted, Fox Corner was an Arcadian dream.

A handful of heartbeats. That was what life was. A heartbeat followed by a heartbeat. A breath followed by a breath. One moment followed by another moment and then there was a last moment. Life was a s fragile as a bird's heartbeat, fleeting as the bluebells in the wood.

Long lazy days like these will never come again in your life. You think they will but they won't.' -Sylvie

I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday.

Happiness, like life itself, was as fragile as a bird's heartbeat, as fleeting as the bluebells in the wood

Before a man dies, hold back and call him not happy but lucky.

Only death reveals what a nothing the body of man is.

The whole life of man is but a point of time; let us enjoy it.

A man is nothing but breath and shadow.

Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.

Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!