Quotes About Transience

No sooner do we come into this world, than bits of us start to fall off.

And everything you do, or might achieve thereafter, is thinner, weaker, matters less. There is no echo coming back; no texture, no resonance, no depth of field.

It seemed to me that we ought occasionally to be reminded of instability beneath our feet.

He applauded their idealism. And yes, music might be immortal, but composers alas are not.

Y lo mismo ocurre con nuestra vida: tan clara, tan segura, hasta que por una razón u otra —el globo se mueve, la nube se dispersa, el sol cambia de ángulo— la imagen se pierde para siempre, se torna accesible sólo al recuerdo, se convierte en anécdota.

deliquescent.

No sooner do we come into this world,' said Flaubert, 'than bits of us start to fall off.

Vieni jausmai laik? pagreitina, kiti sul?tina, o kartais atrodo, kad jis dingsta - kol galop ateina akimirka, kai jis iš ties? dingsta ir jau niekada nebesugr?žta

One must not get too attached to the things of this world. AS

Maybe the things she loved most weren't meant to be permanent. Maybe the fact that they existed was enough.

The dark things that never go away, the sunny, precious things that go all too soon.

The beauty of sand, in other words, belonged to death. it was the beauty of death that ran through the magnificence of its ruins and its great power of destruction

His words were absorbed by the sand and blown by the wind, and there was no way of knowing how far they reached.

En otras palabras, la belleza de la arena pertenecía al reino de la muerte. La belleza de la muerte, que lleva en sí un gran poder de destrucción y la magnificiencia de las ruinas...

Fashion is ephemeral, dangerous and unfair.

Bodies are just leftovers, not the real event on death.

Because that was how it happened: one moment you were there, laughing, talking, breathing, and the next you were gone. Forever. And there wasn't even a shape left in the world where you'd been, neither the trace of a smile nor the whisper of a word. Just nothing.

A handful of heartbeats. That was what life was. A heartbeat followed by a heartbeat. A breath followed by a breath. One moment followed by another moment and then there was a last moment. Life was a s fragile as a bird's heartbeat, fleeting as the bluebells in the wood.

How wonderfully, joyously, untrammeled he had been then in his happiness. She thought it was fixed for ever, she didn't realize that childhood happiness dissolves away. If she had realized that Archie wasn't going to be that sunny innocent child for ever she would have laid up every moment as treasure.

everything was ephemeral, yet everything was eternal

No man at all can be living forever and we must be satisfied.

Death alone discloses how insignificant are the puny bodies of men.

Only death reveals what a nothing the body of man is.

Men come and go but bills are forever.