Quotes About Fleeting

Every moment of life mattered. Even the perfect snowflake that alighted on his palm and melted in seconds.

Sometimes while you wait for what you think is better, Philomene said, what is good enough slips away.

I sighed. "What is life but fleeting moments of happiness strung together on necklace of despair?

That's the story of life - when you start enjoying people, it's always too late.

Nothing goes sour more easily than the life of pleasure.

The May of life blooms once and never again.

all of us were here for a little while, and then we were somewhere else; we were not alive at all; we approached living, but we never achieved it. We are going to die. Everybody was going to die.

Il mondo non era che un mito, un aereo trasparente, su cui tutto era in transito; anche noi […], eravamo qui solo di passaggio per finire poi chissà dove. Non eravamo vivi, noi, ci limitavamo a sfiorare la vita senza mai afferrarla.

I think we are just insects, we live a bit and then die and that's the lot. There's no mercy in things. There's not even a Great Beyond. There's nothing.

everything is gone except traces of you inside me - and the years like the wind are sweeping those away ...

Twice today I've got to play Hamlet, this great part that I shall never play again. And I can't do it today. I could do it tomorrow, or next week, but I can't do it now.

So dawn goes down today... Nothing gold can stay. -- Robert Frost

our life is short, we don't live twice; the whirlwind will pick up the leaves and spin them, but then it will drop them and they will form a pile.

So much of what we read and write these days is disposable.

Life is but a day; A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.

TO A WITHERED ROSE Thy span of life was all too short— A week or two at best— From budding-time, through blossoming, To withering and rest. Yet compensation hast thou—aye!— For all thy little woes; For was it not thy happy lot To live and die a rose?

moment of tangency a fleeting glimpse at what might have been.

tiris the bittersweet awareness that all things must end.

But true sadness is actually the opposite, an exuberant upwelling that reminds you how fleeting and mysterious and open-ended life can be.

Fleeting joy and fading ecstasy, here it goes again, oh, Sneaking fruit from the forbidden tree, sweet taste of sin

Hands down, this is the best day of my life," Olaf says as he begins to drip into a puddle, "and quite possibly the last.

Perfect moments don't turn into half-hours.

This life's a dream, a fleeting show!' no indeed. That isn't my 'doxy.' I don't think that nothing is worth doing, but that everything is worth doing — everything good, of course — and that everything which does good for a moment does good for ever, in art as well as in morals.

That life is short and art long appears to us more true than usual when we lie all day long on a sofa and are as frightened of the east wind as if it were a tiger. Life is not only short, but uncertain, and art is not only long, but absorbing.