Quotes About Transience

Some old guy once said that the meaning of life is that it ends.

It looks bad right now, but remember, this too shall pass.

It is unwise to make something permanent when the whole world is shifting. There may be a time when this symbol means something treacherous and terrible, rather than something noble and literate.

Memento mori- remember you will die.

Momento mori- Remember you will die.

Memento Mori' means 'Remember you will die.

Look at everything in plain sight. The bed, the table, every object you see has likely been in the world longer than us, and they'll still be in the world when we're gone. It is the things that have a history, L. Compared to them we are ghosts.

Castles made of sand slip into the sea eventually ~ JIMI HENDRIX, MUSICIAN

In infinite time, in infinite matter, in infinite space, is formed a bubble organism, and that bubble lasts a while and bursts, and that bubble is Me.

I am not strange but I feel queer. I am like that sometimes. I feel like crying all the time. It is very silly but it will pass.

Without knowledge of what I am and why I am here, it is impossible to live, and since I cannot know that, I cannot live either. In an infinity of time, in an infinity of matter, and an infinity of space a bubble-organism emerges while will exist for a little time and then burst, and that bubble am I.

Here I am...wanting to accomplish something and completely forgetting it must all end--that there is such a thing as death.

Stanislaus Jean, chevalier de Boufflers, once wrote: "Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume." How can it be that our pleasure is as fleeting as the flower? —DB

These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make every thing else appear!---I feel now as if I could think of nothing but these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how soon it may all vanish from my mind?

But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before.

Ninguna hoja se marchitará porque nosotras nos vayamos, ninguna rama dejará de agitarse aunque ya no podamos mirarlas. No, seguirán iguales, inconscientes del placer o la pena que ocasionan e insensibles a cualquier cambio en aquellos que caminan bajo sus sombras. Y, ¿quién quedará para gozarlos?

It is only the ego that steps from moment to moment, as a man who walks from puddle to puddle. It is only the ego who drowns in time.

Sudden, near lightning startled them both, and, as the first large drops of rain fell on the beach, they hurriedly gathered their belongings and started toward the car, leaving their unimportant intimacy like a scrap of paper on the empty beach.

Still others reflected on how quickly the food could be snatched from a man's table, or the child from a woman's breast, or the wife from a man's bedcloset, that no strength of grasp could hold these goods in place. And others remarked to themselves how sweet these goods were, in spite of that, and saw that pleasure lost in every moment is pleasure lost forever.

It was the exact combination of the ephemeral and the eternal that a dying man needed to know about.

All that was a dream, you couldn't hold on, you couldn't depend on frosted glass and Debussy.

I thought how tenuous the links were between mother and children, between friends, family, things you think are eternal. Everything could be lost, more easily than anyone could imagine.

This was the life I was going to be living, everybody separated from everybody else, hanging on for a moment, only to be washed away. I could grow up and drift away too.

I thought how tenuous the links were between mother and children, between friends, family, things you think are eternal. Everything could be lost, more easily than anyone could imagine. We