Quotes About Fleeting

Man is in love and loves what vanishes, What more is there to say?

A young man's ambition, can there be a more fleeting prospect?

Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.

We are all dead men on leave.

It's very strange when the life you never had flashes before your eyes.

Opportunities are like shooting stars if you wait too long you miss them"

Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight.

Bright youth passes swiftly as a thought.

It was that feeling of not being able to quite capture it, not being able to commit the moment, the feeling, to memory because it was too fleeting. She

I can't explain it. It's so, I don't know. Fleeting. Ephemeral." "You're analyzing sex?" He sounded amused. "Why not?" "Women analyze to death. Sometimes it's better not to think about things too deeply." She

Remember that lost time does not return.

Sic transit gloria mundi [So passes away the glory of this world].

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (Thus passes the glory of the world).

Therefore, neither confide in nor depend upon a wind-shaken reed, for "all flesh is grass" and all its glory, like the flower of grass, will fade away. You will quickly be deceived if you look only to the outward appearance of men, and you will often be disappointed if you seek comfort and gain in them.

All the best sands of my life are somehow getting into the wrong end of the hourglass. If I could only reverse it!

A glance, a word -- and joy or pain befalls.... How slight the links are in the chain that binds us to our destiny!

O harp of life, so speedily unstrung!

How fugitive and brief is mortal life between the budding and the falling leaf.

There is no antidote against the opium of time, which temporally considereth all things: our fathers find their graves in our short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be buried in our survivors. Gravestones tell truth scarce forty years. Generations pass while some trees stand, and old families last not three oaks.

We live, we love, we die. A little while we sing in the sun, and then ... we are gone.

They understood, as few have understood before or since, how fleeting life is and how pointless to try to hold on to things or people. They pursued the wondrous deed, the heroic gesture: fighting, fucking, drinking, art - poetry for intense emotion, the music that accompanied the heroic drinking with which each day ended, bewitching ornament for one's person and possessions.

One life; a little gleam of Time between two Eternities; no second chance to us for evermore!

All glories of flesh vanish, and this, the glory of infantine beauty seen in the mirror of memory, soonest of all.

News is what a chap who doesn't care much about anything wants to read. And it's only news until he's read it. After that it's dead.