Quotes About Fleeting

Life is fleeting. Don't waste a single moment of your precious life. Wake up now! And now! And now!

Live. For Now. For the time being.

Some people want to go forever, I just want to burn off hard and bright.

She's like smoke:you think you're seeing her clearly enough,but when you reach for her there's nothing there

Bol zbog svake izgubljene stvari, blaga, bilo kakve sre?e na ovome svijetu s vremenom se zaboravlja. Jedino propuštene prilike nikada ne iš?eznu iz misli i pri svakom prisje?anju zabole ?ovjeka. Razlog tomu je zasigurno pomisao da je "moglo i ne biti tako", ina?e je ?ovjek uvijek spreman prihvatiti stvari koje smatra predodre?enim.

Vielleicht ist meine Kunst die Kunst eines Wahnsinnigen, ein funkelndes Quecksilber, eine blaue Seele, die über meine Bilder hereinbricht.

Casting aside other things, hold to the precious few; and besides bear in mind that every man lives only the present, which is an indivisible point, and that all the rest of his life is either past or is uncertain. Brief is man's life and small the nook of the earth where he lives; brief, too, is the longest posthumous fame, buoyed only by a succession of poor human beings who will very soon die and who know little of themselves, much less of someone who died long ago.

All things fade and quickly turn to myth.

Soon, you will have forgotten everything. Soon, everybody will have forgotten you.

Everything is banal in experience, fleeting in duration, sordid in content; in all respects the same today as generations now dead and buried have found it to be.

All things fade into the storied past, and in a little while are shrouded in oblivion.

Soon you will be dead and none of it will matter

We live only in the present, in this fleet-footed moment. The rest is lost and behind us, or ahead of us and may never be found. Little of life we know, little the plot of earth on which we dwell, little the memory of even the most famous who have lived, and this memory itself is preserved by generations of little men, who know little about themselves and far less about those who died long ago.

Or is it your reputation that's bothering you? But look at how soon we're all forgotten. The abyss of endless time that swallows it all. The emptiness of all those applauding hands. The people who praise us- how capricious they all are, how arbitrary. And the tiny region in which it all takes place. The whole earth a point in space- and most of it uninhabited. How many people there will be to admire you, and who they are.

Close to forgetting it all, close to being forgotten.

Some things are hurrying into existence, and others are hurrying out of it;

We live only in the present, in this fleet-footed moment. The rest is lost and behind us, or ahead of us and may never be found. Little of life we know, little the plot of earth on which we dwell, little the memory of even the most famous who have lived, and this memory itself is preserved by generations of little men, who know little about themselves and far less about those who died long ago. (Book 3, Verse 10)

hold every hour in your grasp. Lay hold of to-day's task, and you will not need to depend so much upon to-morrow's. While we are postponing, life speeds by. Nothing, Lucilius, is ours, except time. We were entrusted by nature with the ownership of this single thing, so fleeting and slippery that anyone who will can oust us from possession.

Run down the list of those who felt intense anger at something: the most famous, the most unfortunate, the most hated, the most whatever: Where is all that now? Smoke, dust, legend…or not even a legend. Think of all the examples. And how trivial the things we want so passionately are.

In short, know this: Human lives are brief and trivial. Yesterday a blob of semen; tomorrow embalming fluid, ash.

that there is a limit to the time assigned you, and if you don't use it to free yourself it will be gone and will never return.

all things soon pass away and become a mere tale, and complete oblivion soon buries them. And I say this of those who have shone in a wondrous way.

There is a limit circumscribed to your time - if you do not use it to clear away your clouds, it will be gone, and you will be gone, and the opportunity will not return.

How many of them who came into the world at the same time when I did, are already gone out of it?