Quotes About Transience

But nothing on this earth lasts for a long time, and thus even joy is not as vivid the second moment as it is the first; the third moment, it becomes still weaker, and finally it merges unnoticeably with the normal state of one's soul,

Venise à la qualité de disparaître en un instant,de ne pas courir derrière le train avec des clins d'œil à gauche et à droite comme le font d'autres villes, mais de sombrer aussitôt, comme si elle n'existait pas, comme si elle n'avait jamais existé.

Just because it won't last doesn't mean it isn't worth something.

A young person can't know her life, what it will be or how it will unfold. When you grow older, you gain a sense that hardships occupy particular moments in time, which by and by will pass. But when you're young, a single moment seems like the whole world. It feels permanent.

There used to be days that I thought I was okay, or at least that I was going to be. We'd be hanging out somewhere and everything would just fit right and I would think 'it will be okay if it can just be like this forever' but of course nothing can ever stay just how it is forever.

In the great mirror of consciousness, images arise and disappear and only memory gives them continuity. And memory is material - destructible, perishable, transient. On such flimsy foundations we build a sense of personal existence - vague, intermittent, dreamlike. This vague persuasion, "I am so-and-so," obscures the changeless state of pure awareness and makes us believe that we are born to suffer and to die.

Instead, Emerson came to accept that when someone dies, things that belong to you disappear, too.

Better, I thought, never to have been born than this; brought out of nothingness, to labour and strive and back into nothingness again; a bit of fungus on the surface of a splinter of a dying star.

This shooting star had apparently been sedentarized in my bailiwick-so, good.

My body is but wax and wick for flame. When the candle burns out, the light shines elsewhere.

Et ce souvenir brusquement évoqué met un nuage de mélancolie dans la gaîté de ce joli matin.

nothing is permanent and all suffering results from our delusions of permanence

My steps along this streetResoundin another streetIn whichI hear my stepsPassing along this streetIn whichOnly the mist is real.

Even the most potent hash When spent eventually becomes ash The most needed now is cash But then, for it you must nt rush

????? ?i?? ??? ?????????? ???????? ?? ?????-?????? ???????? ? ????? ? ???i, ???? ???????? ???i? ????????, ?i?? - ???????.

Within our bodies disintegration inexorably advances; soon we shall fall sick and die. Our loved ones will leave us, the memory of them will dissolve in the tumult; nothing will remain. Just a few clothes in the wardrobe and someone in a photograph, no longer recognized. The most precious memories will dissipate. Everything will sink into darkness and vanish.

They are more than travel hubs: this is a special category of city-state, with a stable location, but citizens in flux.They are airport-republics...(a)n example of an extroverted system,where the constitution is spelled out on every ticket, and where one's boarding pass is one's only identification as a citizen.

I stopped in the sloping market square, and gradually I felt flooded by a powerful sense of communion with the people passing by. Each man was my brother and each woman my sister. We were so very much alike. So fragile, impermanent, and easily destroyed. We trustingly went to and fro beneath the sky, which had nothing good in store for us.

her hands are hennaed in a complex design made less legible by each passing day.

HERE TODAY AND GONE TOMORROW. ?O USE TO MILK IS YOUR SORROW

The same fate awaits me too, and Oddball, and the Deer outside; one day we shall all be nothing more than corpses.

Jedni przychodz? na ?wiat na górze, w s?onecznych rejonach, inni na dole, bez ?wiat?a ludzkie grzyby. Wszystko zdarza si? tylko raz i my sami jeste?my jednorazowi. Nie by?o nas, zanim si? urodzili?my, i nie b?dzie nas jak umrzemy. Raj- to cyfrowy sen. Nikt nas nie wybawi, nie naprawi, nie zado??uczyni. Ka?dego dnia stajemy si? jeszcze bardziej bezradni

We live in a state of siege. If one takes a close look at each fragment of a moment, one might choke with terror. Within our bodies disintegration inexorably advances; soon we shall fall sick and die. Our loved ones will leave us, the memory of them will dissolve in the tumult; nothing will remain. Just a few clothes in the wardrobe and someone in a photograph, no longer recognized. The most precious memories will dissipate. Everything will sink into darkness and vanish.

That was a new generation of literature—text without spine, fleeting copy, something like the Kleenex that took the helm after the abdication of cloth handkerchiefs.