Quotes About Fleeting

I am a temporary amusement.

Losing a parent makes you realize how temporary everything is - you're looking through someone's whole life in a drawer, and they're very simply gone.

Life is temporary. We die one day. Live it up!

I have realised that we are running after things that are so temporary and fleeting - be it fame or money or anything like that.

Crowd work has this feeling of being very temporary and of the moment, and I think that's why it sometimes gets a bad rap or a stigma.

We all go to our grave thinking that we will never be forgotten, and we are forgotten ten minutes later.

Time just gets away from you so quickly. And there's these moments that will never come around again. And there's something so terrifying, but also so beautiful about that.

Beauty is ever to the lonely mind A shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind The gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.

Many ideas are good for a limited time -- not forever.

Appearance implies disappearance also: whatever appears must also disappear.

impermanence.

El olvido era la muerte postrera y definitiva de las cosas y la gente.

Demasiado bonito para que durara, ya saben, los espíritus singulares no soportan tanto amor, tanta perfección encontrada por casualidad

Qué lástima que pase el tiempo ¿verdad?, qué lástima que nos muramos y que nos hagamos viejos y que las cosas buenas se vayan alejando de nosotros al galope.

then he sat on his bed and for a fraction of a second the shadows retreated and he had a fleeting glimpse of reality. He felt dizzy and he closed his eyes. Without knowing it he fell asleep.

Nothing lasts, the purely loving gestures of children tumble into the void.

I'd love her until the end of time, he thought. An hour later he'd already forgotten the matter completely.

brevedad de la vida, en lo insondable que resulta el destino de los hombres, en la futilidad de los empeños mundanos.

Así pasa la gloria del mundo, me dijo Quim desde el otro extremo de la mesa.

I'm mercurial, sometimes I want greatness, sometimes just its shadow.

But all fires, of wood or grief, burn down to ashes eventually.

For a very brief period I was happy, and, an even rarer gift, I knew I was happy.

I suddenly wished to go back, to have again each separate day to spend. Time. I was trapped in it, fenced into a tiny piece of now that was the only time I could influence. All the soons and tomorrows I might plan were ghost things that might be snatched from me at any moment. Intentions were nothing. Now was all I had.

Et vif comme la pensée, il m'échappa, dévalant la pente comme l'ombre d'un nuage quand le vent souffle