Quotes About Transience

I've always been somebody who's acutely aware of my mortality.

We are mortals, we will die one day.

I like to say that I am based in Los Angeles, but I mostly reside in airports.

And always America is the place of the deathless and enraptured moments, the eye that looked, the mouth that smiled and vanished, and the word; the stone, the leaf, the door we never found and never have forgotten. And these are the things that we remember of America, for we have known all her thousand lights and weathers, and we walk the streets, we walk the streets forever, we walk the streets of life alone.

Hoop nodded. "Everything's good." "For now," Ripley said. "Only for now. Nothing stays good for long. Not ever.

Beauty is a nonviolent experience of near death, a warning that one is fragile, like everything else in the universe.

We are like fireworks…rising, shining and finally…scattering and fading. So until that moment comes when we vanish like fireworks…let us sparkle brightly…always.

A petal falling, never to bloom again A petal in flames, full of beauty

Bones are patient. Bones never tire nor do they run away. When you come upon a man who has been dead many years, his bones will still be lying there, in place, content, patiently waiting, but his flesh will have gotten up and left him. Water is like flesh. Water will not stand still. It is always off to somewhere else; restless, talkative, and curious. Even water in a covered jar will disappear in time. Flesh is water. Stones are like bones. Satisfied. Patient. Dependable.

We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it.

We shed as we pick up, like travelers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those left behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. -

She left me the way people leave a hotel room. A hotel room is a place to be when you are doing something else. Of itself it is of no consequence to one's major scheme. A hotel room is convenient. But its convenience is limited to the time you need it while you are in that particular town on that particular business; you hope it is comfortable, but prefer, rather, that it be anoymous. It is not, after all, where you live.

Birth, life, and death? each took place on the hidden side of a leaf.

But I been headin' in this direction for seven years. Walking all around this place. Upstate, downstate, east, west. I been to territory ain't got no name. Never stayin' nowhere long. But when I got here, and sat out there on the porch waitin' for you, I knew it wasn't the place I was headin' toward, it was you.

By and by all trace is gone, and what is forgotten is not only the footprints but the water too and what it is down there. The rest is weather. Not the breath of the disremembered and unaccounted for, but wind in the eaves, or spring ice thawing too quickly. Just weather. Certainly no clamor for a kiss.

like a piece of soft coal, leaving only flakes of ash and a question

Does anybody regret leaving a hotel room? Does anybody, who has a home, a real home somewhere, want to stay there? Does anybody look back with affection, or even disgust, at a hotel room when they leave it?

Outside the youth center, between the liquor store and the police station, a little dogwood tree is losing its mind; overflowing with blossomfoam, like a sudsy mug of beer; like a bride ripping off her clothes, dropping snow white petals to the ground in clouds, so Nature's wastefulness seems quietly obscene. It's been doing that all week: making beauty, and throwing it away, and making more.

Dreams don't have time. Neither does sleep, nor death. That's why it is sometimes good to wear a watch.

Everyone's just passin' through Ohio to get to somewhere else

Sometimes they rose up inside her, these moments of fierce happiness, kindling out of their own substance like a spark igniting a mound of grass. It was a joy to be alive, a strange and savage joy, and she stood there in the warmth and destruction of it knowing it could not last.

Vi- ett ögonblick. Det var precis vad vi var: Ett ögonblick. Ingen framtid, inget förflutet, ingenting bortom nuet.

But have you ever felt that something was so good it couldn't possibly last?

I'm the one who made many of the bold comments that we'd seen the technologies from AMD as pretty good. Their technology in many areas was leading. But those are transient.