Quotes About Transience

Written poetry is worth reading once, and then should be destroyed. Let the dead poets make way for others.

The house of fame, he thought, is built on melting ice, not steel...

Death comes for us. You may get ten minutes on this earth or you may get eighty years but nobody gets out alive. Accepting this rule gives me a funny flicker of peace.

Niets is ondraaglijker dan geluk, het is alleen te doen als je weet dat je op het punt staat het te verliezen. Houden van is een activiteit voor vliegvelden en stations, en crematoria natuurlijk.

Enjoy them while you may," answered Rashaverak gently. "They will not be yours for long." It was advice that might have been given to any parent in any age: but now it contained a threat and a terror it had never held before.

Around her the trees and wild flowers, with that oddly courteous air of natural things suddenly interrupted in their pressing occupations of growing and dying, turned toward her with attention, as though, dull and imperceptive as she was, it was still necessary for them to be gentle to a creation so unfortunate as not to be rooted in the ground, forced to go from one place to another, heart-breakingly mobile. Idly

Nunca dominaremos completamente a natureza, e nosso organismo, ele mesmo parte dessa natureza, será sempre uma construção transitória, limitada em adequação e desemprenho.

His heart sang in his breast; his soul felt like a bride in the arms of the bridegroom. He realized full well that this would not last. No man could live on earth in this manner for long. And he had received each hour of that bright springtime like a pledge—a merciful promise that would strengthen his endurance when the skies darkened over him and the road led down into a dark ravine, through roaring rivers and cold snowdrifts.

She would never change, but one day at the touch of a fingertip she would fall to dust.

The present is a transitory existence which is made in order to be abolished: it retrieves itself only by transcending itself toward the permanence of future being; it is only as an instrument, as a means, it is only by it's efficacy with regard to the coming of the future that the present is validly realized: reduced to itself it is nothing , one may dispose of it as he pleases.

Ze had een hekel aan die anonieme hotelkamers waar zoveel mensen waren geweest zonder sporen achter te laten, waar zij zelf ook geen enkel spoor zou achterlaten. Alles blijft precies hetzelfde als ik er niet meer ben. Dat is wat doodgaan is, dacht ze.

Comprendí en seguida que formaban parte de los placeres de los viajes las amistades sin futuro y el leve desgarramieto de las despedidas.

From the hour you're born you begin to die. But between birth and death there's life.

Kocham ró?e; sÄ… kwiatami uroczystymi, które umierajÄ…, nie wiednÄ…c, w ukÅ'onie.

we are always entertaining the delusion that we will go on forever in this world. The result is that the very things which ought to be of assistance to us in our pilgrimage through life, become chains which bind us.

We reach. We gasp. And what is left in our hands at the end? A shadow. Or a worse than a shadow - misery.

how hollow and futile life can be when it's founded on a false belief in continuity and permanence.

What is born will die, What has been gathered will be dispersed, What has been accumulated will be exhausted, What has been built up will collapse, And what has been high will be brought low.

The whole point about strangers is, they disappear into the ether and you never see them again.

Be honest! Magnus, you and I, we're not destined to be together forever. We're not the main event. I think we're …" I screw up my face, trying to think of a way to put it. "I think we're each other's footnotes.

A volte penso che staremmo meglio se fossimo semi di soffione: niente famiglia, niente storia, liberi di volare nel mondo, ciascuno nel proprio batuffolo di lanugine.

Not to be born surpasses thought and speech. The second best is to have seen the light and then go back quickly whence we came

For now I feel All we who live are but an empty show And idle pageant of a shadowy dream.

Men are of little worth. Their brief lives last a single day. They cannot hold elusive pleasure fast; It melts away. All laurels wither; all illusions fade; Hopes have been phantoms, shade on air-built shade, since time began.