Quotes About Fleeting

Brick-and-mortar at the end of the day matters because viral is great, but it comes and goes as fast.

It has been said that a pretty face is a passport. But it's not, it's a visa, and it runs out fast.

Better than never having loved at all. The real moral of the story is that you should take love when and where you can find it because none of us know how long we have left.

When a fortune comes without calling, it's apt to leave without asking.

It was like the classic scene in the movies where one lover is on the train and one is on the platform and the train starts to pull away, and the lover on the platform begins to trot along and then jog and then sprint and then gives up altogether as the train speeds irrevocably off. Except in this case I was all the parts: I was the lover on the platform, I was the lover on the train. And I was also the train.

Things always seem to end before they start

And if our hearts aren't awakened by majesty, our lives soon shrink into little bits of nothingness. Our days become filled with drama over the ridiculous; our complaints fly free at the smallest challenge or difficulty; our energy and wealth are consumed by what is fleeting; and our chatter becomes dominated by events, people, and things that won't last much longer than the morning mist. To

World is suddener than we fancy it.

Like all happiness, it did not last long.

It's the continuation of everyone's childhood to see these young children who grow up full of life, full of intelligence, full of a sense of wonder. And within an instant they're gone from this world. It's terrible.

The hour which gives us life begins to take it away.

When you die, you don't get to catch snowflakes on your tongue. You don't get to breathe winter in, deep in your lungs. You can't lie in bed and watch for the lights of the passing town plow. You can't suck on an icicle until your forehead hurts.

love has all the lasting permanence of a rainbow – beautiful while it's there, and just as likely to have disappeared by the time you blink.

Take it from me: love has all the lasting permanence of a rainbow -- beautiful while it's there, and just as likely to have disappeared by the time you blink.

Suddenly the guy looked up, his blue eyes catching mine. They made me think of the heart of a glacier, of how, when you touch dry ice with your bare skin, you cannot let go even if you try.

He's lighter than you'd think, like whatever was inside him was used up long ago. With that reasoning, it's a wonder I don't float off into the sky.

You could lose track of someone when you blinked

Take it from me: love has all the lasting permanence of a rainbow – beautiful while it's there, and just as likely to have disappeared by the time you blink.

Our worlds are so momentary. We are along all our lives and then go off that way as well.

That first loving kiss, the one that comes out of you from the source of your personal river, and the one that comes from her that is the same, there's never another moment like it; never another flame that burns so hot. It can never be that good again, ever. All manner of goodness can come after, but it's different. And that's a good thing, because if we burned that hot for too long, we'd be nothing but ash.

Its a bit mad. Too bad, I mean, that getting to know each just for a fleeting second Must be replaced by unperfect knowledge of the featureless whole Like some pocket history of the world, so general As to constitute a sob or wail

It's like a fidget spinner." Then the offering dropped to the ground, tossed aside. The wind had moved on. "Those get boring fast," said Darnell.

This is the mortal world. It is a world where nothing is lost, where all is accounted for while yet the mystery of things is preserved; a world where they may live, however briefly, however tenuously, in the failing evening of the self, solitary and at the same time together somehow here in this place, dying as they may be and yet fixed forever in a luminous, unending instant.

The high ones die, die. They die. You look up and who's there?