Quotes About Fragility

Hopes have precarious life. They are oft blighted, withered, snapped sheer off In vigorous growth and turned to rottenness.

It is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realise the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.

Sometimes it was daunting, knowing how easily I could break things. This one simple curse seemed to dominate my entire life.

Life is filigree work. What is written clearly is not worth much, it's the transparency that counts.

What can we take on trust in this uncertain life? Happiness, greatness, pride - nothing is secure, nothing keeps.

I don't intend to be menacing, but I do think of life as being essentially dangerous. We never know what's going to happen from one day to the next.

Life that only a few hours before had glowed with enthusiasm and exultation, suddenly paled and sickened.

How short is human life! the very breath Which frames my words accelerates my death.

You do become more aware of your mortality as you get older. When you're little, you jump on any wild horse. Then you get a little bit older and realize how fragile life is, and you're more careful.

The night was ordinary. It usually is, I think, when your life changes. Most people aren't doing anything special when the carefully placed pieces of their life break apart.

We die every day; every moment deprives us of a portion of life and advances us a step toward the grave; our whole life is only along and painful sickness.

Photos are profound because they have such short lives. They are more like fingerprints, dead leaves, rain puddles, or the corpses of flies.

The Snow-drop, Winter's timid child, Awakes to life, bedew'd with tears.

Heart of Glass

I wake up some mornings and sit and have my coffee and look out at my beautiful garden, and I go, 'Remember how good this is. Because you can lose it.'

I wake up some mornings and sit and have my coffee and look out at my garden, and i go, 'Remember how good this is. Because you can lose it.

Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.

Castles made of sand fall in the sea eventually.

And so castles made of sand slips into the sea, eventually.

Even castles made of sand, fall into the sea, eventually.

As she lies in the bed she weeps, for Bing, for the melting, shimmering candles, the filigree on the holiday tablecloth. She is an unwilling astronaut, bumping against the thick glass of the ship, her line tangling lazily in zero gravity, face mask fogged with fear. My sister reaches across, over the bed, and we both embrace the mother, holding her on earth, pulling her onto the ship, breathing our oxygen into her line. Ten hours later she is dead.

How do you find your mount, Miss de Lacy?" Amy found it a slug. It was clear Rowanford had taken her caution too seriously. This horse would be ideal for a non-equestrian grandmother. "I feel very safe," she said. "Excellent. I shall take good care of you, Miss de Lacy. Have no fear." Amy sighed and wished there was a convenient piece of furniture to heft to prove she was not as fragile as she appeared.

my flesh was glass, I spoke in little clicks and chinks, and my transparent self went about its business all that day, the usual.

Maybe that afternoon was the closest I ever felt to Bob: his eyes were as old as God, and he was fragile as a winter leaf.