Quotes About Transience

A bush-warbler, Coming to the verandah-edge, Left its droppings On the rice-cakes.

Year's end, all corners of this floating world, swept.

Dying cricket - how full of life, his song.

Still alive I am At the end of a long dream On my journey, Fall of an autumn day.

Weather-beaten heart the wind must blow right through my body

Even a summer day isn't long enough for singing skylarks

From five to six miles I walk every day In search of you, Cherry blossoms.

246. From the heart of the sweet peony,/A drunken bee. 251. Tomb. bend/to autumn wind-/ my sobbing.

On a withered branch A crow has alighted: Nightfall in autumn.

One after another In silent succession fall The flowers of yellow rose - The roar of tumbling water.

The fact that everyone's days were numbered, and it didn't matter if you were in premier class or worked in housekeeping. Those were only costumes people wore. And once you stripped them away you saw the truth. This giant ocean and this dark pressing sky. We only have a few minutes, but the unexplainable world is constant and forever marching forward.

To believe in the things we feel at that point is wrong, because those feelings would disappear with food or sleep.

We'd have been a meteor shower. Over before we started.' 'Meteor showers are fucking beautiful.

Bands don't last. We'd have been a meteor shower. Over before we started. - Meteor showers are fucking beautiful.

I'm sorry,' his other self said, as he sipped his wine and the sun set behind him, 'I've forgotten who you are.' 'Don't worry,' she said. 'So have I.' As she too faded away like the sun that had just been swallowed by the horizon.

Extract from "That it will never come again" by Emily Dickinson reprinted by permission of the publishers and the Trustees of Amherst College from THE POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON, Thomas H. Johnson, ed., Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Copyright © 1951, 1955, 1979, 1983 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College. Lyrics from THIS MUST BE THE PLACE by David Byrne. Courtesy Index Music, Inc.

Bands don't last. We'd have been a meteor shower. Over before we started. "Meteor showers are fucking beautiful.

I felt the beautiful melancholy of being human, captured perfectly in the setting of a sun. Because, as with a sunset, to be human was to be in-between things; a day, bursting with desperate colour as it headed irreversibly towards night

All of our earthly concerns are quite transient compared to the sky.

I wish I were a rose...that you might wear me for a buttonhole bouquet on your journey. But I wonder...would you throw the rose away when it faded?

Time gives his hour-glass Its due reversal. Their hour is gone.

The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go I.

Up until this point, we have been observing the impermanent, unsatisfactory, or selfless nature of each object as it arose to consciousness.

a blossom past its perfection, shedding petals like a sad metaphor