Quotes About Fleeting

...everything is gone except traces of you inside me - and the years like the wind are sweeping those away ...

And I thought to myself how those fast little articles forget everything, everything, while we, old lovers, treasure every inch of their nymphancy

If I blink she'll disappear, " he told her. She looked at him and said, "Maybe that is the best thing for you.

A relationship is like a bubble the more you chew the lesser its tastes.

Be that fragnance which fades in breezes of cold air but always gives intense smell.

A fleeting second on someone's news feed, No dearth of meanings for those who read, Not my stories but 'tis what I think, I say I don't write poems, I just write dreams.

For a man he get his own ship and his own strong wind, but he cannot stop missing all the passing breezes that never come again.

it took seven years to make John a hero and just seven days to make him a failure.

But I never considered it as other than a transitory life.

At almost every step in life, we meet with young men of just about Holgrave's age, for whom we anticipate wonderful things, but of whom, even after mucha nd careful inquiry, we never happen to hear another word. The effervescence of youth and passion, and the fresh gloss of the intellect and imagination, endow them with a false brilliancy, which makes fools of themselves and other people.

Love remains mortal

Everything feels right with the world, and the sad thing is that I know it's a dream. I know it must soon end, and when it does I will be thrust awake into a place where either I'm broken, or the world is broken.

Modernity is the transient, the fleeting, the contingent; it is one half of art, the other being the eternal and the immovable.

The man allured by a passing face, For ever bears the chastisement Of having wished to change his place.

Ha buscado por doquier la belleza pasajera, fugaz, de la vida presente, el carácter de aquello que el lector nos permitió llamar la modernidad.

fugaz, que se metamorfosea con tal frecuencia.

the beautiful are found in the edge of a room crumpled into spiders and needles and silence and we can never understand why they left,they were so beautiful. they dont make it, the beautiful die young and leave the ugly to their ugly lives.

the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced, and lest this be taken for wry sorrow, drown the spider in wine. you are much more than simply dead: I am a dish for your ashes, I am a fist for your vanished air. the most terrible thing about life is finding it gone.

you are yesterday's bouquet so sadly raided

Beautiful thoughts, and beautiful women never last.

all people start to come apart finally and there it is: just empty ashtrays in a room or wisps of hair on a comb in the dissolving moonlight.

Pretty words, as pretty women, wrinkle up and die.

Love dries up, I thought as I walked back to the bathroom, even faster than sperm.

it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.