Quotes About Transience

In the consciousness of the end is the limitation of the moment.

Here lies one whose name was writ on water.

Perhaps it is a good thing that we don't live long enough to realize how redundant things seem :)

Emotions are like passing storms, and you have to remind yourself that it won't rain forever.

I find myself enjoying being alone a lot of the time, people come and people go and you have to find a way to be ok with both.

What happens now will not matter in the future.

Shake out the ruffle, turn and go,Over the trellis blow the kiss.Some of the guests will never knowAnother night to shadow this.Some of the birds awake in vinesWill never see another faceSo frail, so lovely anyplaceBetween the birdbath and the bines.

O, man of importance, perhaps with money and offspring you may start, But it is clear that with all these after a short time you will have to part. Happy is he who connects his heart to the Beloved. And with heart and soul is tied to the folk of heart.

F]ireworks had for her a direct and magical appeal. Their attraction was more complex than that of any other form of art. They had pattern and sequence, colour and sound, brilliance and mobility; they had suspense, surprise, and a faint hint of danger; above all, they had the supreme quality of transience, which puts the keenest edge on beauty and makes it touch some spring in the heart which more enduring excellences cannot reach.

The people of the stone houses are gone, whirled like chaff over dry fields, scattered by the war dances of dust devils. what remains — sculpted walls, curved shards, small stores of corn — says little. What we know is that they lived like birds. That from their doorways they looked out and out over shimmering trees into the arms of sky, And that one day, light-boned, weightless as any winged flock before a journey, they rose and flew. —Mesa Verde

Zen pretty much comes down to three things -- everything changes; everything is connected; pay attention.

How fragile we are, between the few good moments.

Everything has two endings- a horse, a piece of string, a phone call. Before a life, air. And after. As silence is not silence, but a limit of hearing.

In a room with many windows some thoughts slide past uncatchable, ghostly.

The work of existence devours its own unfolding. What dissolves will dissolve-- you, reader, and I, and all our quick angers and longings.

Bash? wrote, "The moon and sun are travelers of a hundred generations. The years, coming and going, are wanderers too. Spending a lifetime adrift on boat decks, greeting old age while holding a horse by the mouth—for such a person, each day is a journey, and the journey itself becomes home.

When the body dies, where will they go, those migrant birds and prayer calls, as heat from sheets when taken from a dryer? With voices of the ones I loved, great loves and small loves, train wheels, crickets, clock-ticks, thunder – where will they, when in fragrant, tumbled heat they also leave?

Un giorno è sconfinato Un giorno è sconfinato Fino a mezzogiorno Poi è andato L'acqua del laghetto di ieri m'intreccia ancora i capelli Non so che ora è Impossibile capirlo Ma possibile rinunciarvi p#159

The trouble with bubbles is, they burst.

We are no more than candles burning in the wind.

A její šat už nešustí, už dotan?ila. A ret pálí slzami, které líbávali d?íve jí muži nad ústy.

A single second is enough like steam in a retort to hiss, obedient to the alchemist and drops dead as a hunted dove.

It's why we like real flowers that wilt, not perfect plastic ones that never change.

Hux was a revolutionary, full of fire and fervor, but revolutionaries' seasons were fleeting