Quotes About Transience

Morning would come before we knew it. It always did. But we still had the night, and for now, we were together, so I just closed my eyes and drank it all in.

Often while traveling with a camera we arrive just as the sun slips over the horizon of a moment, too late to expose film, only time enough to expose our hearts.

Perhaps it's my natural pessimism, but it seems that an awfully large part of travel these days is to see things while you still can.

Clay lies still, but blood's a rover; Breath's aware that will not keep. Up, lad: when the journey's over then there'll be time enough to sleep.

People who travel are always fugitives.

Women on trains have a life that is exactly livable the precision of days flashing past

What is more melancholy and more profound than to see a thousand objects for the first and the last time? To travel is to be born and to die at every instant...

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

Like the trees, we are visitors, guests of the earth.

The worldly comforts are not for me. I am like a traveler, who takes rest under a tree in the shade and then goes on his way.

Like birds landing on a tree top together, and then dispersing, we are together for a very short time, so it makes sense to live in harmony, in unconditional friendship.

Cherry trees will blossom every year; But I'll disappear for good, One of these days.

We will all, someday, experience death, and become obsolete as a dead leaf falling from a tree, crushed by passersby to ashes underlying the earth.

Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees above a snow glaze.

Nothing endures. Not a tree. Not love. Not even death by violence.

I am a forgettable leaf on a tree.

we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves.

Sometimes I see something so moving I know I'm not supposed to linger. See it and leave. If you stay too long, you wear out the wordless shock. Love it and trust it and leave.

When you know that something is dying inside you, you learn not to put much trust in the random vitalities of the fleeting moment.

Meet this transient world with neither grasping nor fear, trust the unfolding of life, and you will attain true serenity.

I don't trust my inner feelings, inner feelings come and go.

Who then to frail mortality shall trust But limns the water, or but writes in dust.

We are in truth but pieces on this chess board of life, which in the end we leave, only to drop one by one into the grave of nothingness.

The truth about it is, whether we is rich or poor or something in between, this earth ain't no final restin place. So in a way, we is all homeless - just workin our way toward home.