Quotes About Fleeting

remember this: in no time at all both you and he will be dead, and shortly after that not even our names will remain.

All those people who came into the world with me and have already left it.

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

Cuántos de los agasajados con muchos himnos están ya entregados al olvido! ¡Cuántos de los que hicieron esos himnos hace tiempo que están ausentes!

Like an attachment to a sparrow: we glimpse it and it's gone.

Both he that praiseth, and he that is praised; he that remembers, and he that is remembered, will soon be dust and ashes.

So discard all else and secure these few things only. remind yourself too that each of us lives only in the present moment, a mere fragment of time; the rest is life past or uncertain future. Sure, life is a small thing, and small the cranny of the earth in which we live it; small too even the longest fame thereafter, which is itself subject to a succession of little men who will quickly die, and have no knowledge event of themselves, let alone of those long dead.

All things fade and quickly turn to myth: quickly too utter oblivion drowns them. And I am talking of those who shone with some wonderful brilliance: the rest, once they have breathed their last, are immediately 'beyond sigh, beyond knowledge'. But what in any case is everlasting memory? Utter emptiness.

Everything by which people set so much store in life is emptiness, putrefaction, pettiness; little dogs nipping at one another; little children who laugh as they fight, and then suddenly burst into tears.

But inasmuch as things human are frail and fleeting, we must be ever on the search for some persons whom we shall love and who will love us in return; for if goodwill and affection are taken away, every joy is taken from life. For me, indeed, though he was suddenly snatched away, Scipio still lives and will always live; for it was his virtue that caused my love and that is not dead.

This is what I miss, Cordelia: not something that's gone, but something that will never happen. Two old women giggling over their tea.

I feel like cotton candy: sugar and air. Squeeze me and I'd turn into a small sickly damp wad of weeping pinky-red.

The Three of them were beautiful, in the way all girls of that age are beautiful. It can't be helped, that sort of beauty, nor can it be conserved; it's a freshness, a plumpness of the cells, that's unearned and temporary, and that nothing can replicate. None of them was satisfied with it, however; already they were making attempts to alter themselves into some impossible, imaginary mould, plucking and pencilling away at their faces. I didn't blame them, having done the same once myself.

Time has not stood still. It has washed over me, washed me away, as if I'm nothing more than a woman of sand, left by a careless child too near the water.

She's been a distraction for him, but not a necessity of life. More like a super-strong mint: intense while it lasted but quickly finished.

All that wasted time, and he didn't even know who'd wasted it.

You will flicker in these words and in the words of others for a while and then go out. Even if I send them, you will never get these letters. Even if I see you again, I will never see you again.

Time is going faster and faster; the days of the week whisk by like panties.

That kind of love comes and goes and is hard to remember afterwards, like pain. You would look at the man one day and you would think, I loved you, and the tense would be past, and you would be filled with a sense of wonder, because it was such an amazing and precarious and dumb thing to have done;

We have learned to see the world in gasps. To

Mary watched the sunset from her carriage window, realizing that such beauty could never last. Life was a golden glory that faded in the wink of an eye. Life was a village fair that only lasted for a single day. As the carriage rattled along, rocking her like a babe in arms, Mary felt very old and wise. She found that she didn't mind being taken back to the castle, to a caring captivity that was filled with comforts and kindness. And she also found that she couldn't keep her eyes open.

No matter what they are in life, in memory they always seem to rearrange themselves in the opposite manner. All pleasures are seen as foreshortened and hasty and fleeting, and all pain lingering.

I learned two things that night, and the next day, from him: the perfection of a moment, and the fleeting nature of it.

Technology has the shelf life of a banana.