Quotes About Transience

How odd to watch a mortal kindle Then to dwindle day by day. Knowing their bright souls are tinder And the wind will have its way.

How odd to watch a mortal kindle Then to dwindle day by day. Knowing their bright souls are tinder And the wind will have its way. Would I could my own fire lend. What does your flickering portend?

Las mujeres son como el fuego, como las llamas. Algunas son como velas, luminosas e inofensivas. Algunas son como chispas, o como brasas, o como las luciérnagas que perseguimos las noches de verano. Algunas son como hogueras, un derroche de luz y calor para una sola noche, y quieren que después las dejes en paz. Algunas son como el fuego de la chimenea: no muy espectaculares, pero por debajo tienen cálidas y rojas brasas que arden mucho tiempo.

It is not a place you travel to, it is the place you pass through while on your way to somewhere else.

My romances were all pleasant and brief. I cannot say why brief, except to state the obvious: that I do not have much in me that might encourage a woman to make a long habit of my company.

We Ruh are travelers. Our lives are composed of meetings and partings with brief, bright acquaintances in-between. - Kvothe

Vuestra vida se aleja como el sol poniente, la muerte se acerca como las sombras de la noche.

Anxious for some permanency, I guess I needed to be reminded how temporal permanency is.

Some things melt before they become memories.

Why is it that we lose the things we love, and things cavalier cling to us and will be the measure of our worth after we're gone?

There were no ashtrays and no sign of my philosophic cowpoke. I sensed he had been heading this way and most likely, spotting the spanking new paint job, just kept on going. I looked around. Nothing to hold me here, either, not even the dried carcass of a dead bee.

Please stay forever I say to the things I know. Don't go. Don't grow.

It was. It will never be again. Remember.

Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you musn't waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it.

Pour employer une expression qui m'a toujours plu, j'ai découvert que je vivais des jours empruntés.

Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you mustn't waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it.

La petite mort' and 'la grande mort' within ten seconds of each other—coming and going in the space of three short breaths.

Ik houd mezelf voor dat ik beter moet weten dan zo verbaasd te reageren, dat de dingen nu eenmaal zo lopen in de wereld, dat we allemaal sterfelijk zijn en dat ons einde zich elk moment kan aandienen. Maar een objectief beeld biedt geen greintje troost. Het hart bloedt. En daar bestaat geen remedie tegen.

È un lento ma ineluttabile processo di erosione. Le parole di solito hanno una durata leggermente più lunga delle cose, ma alla fine anch'esse decadono insieme con le rappresentazioni che un tempo evocavano.

Una cosa scompare e se aspetti troppo prima di ripensarla non c'è sforzo che possa farla riapparire. Dopo tutto, la memoria non è un atto di volontà. È qualcosa che accade tuo malgrado, e quando i cambiamenti sono troppo frequenti, la mente è destinata a vacillare e le cose destinate a eclissarsi in essa.

Although it comes only for a few minutes in most cases, its bloom endures and

Your hair waves once more when I weep. With the blue of your eyes you lay the table of love: a bed between summer and autumn. We drink what somebody brewed, neither I nor you nor a third: we lap up some empty and last thing. We watch ourselves in the deep sea's mirrors and faster pass food to the other: the night is the night, it begins with the morning, beside you it lays me down. ("The Years From You To Me")

The Years from You to Me" Your hair waves once more when I weep. With the blue of your eyes you lay the table of love; a bed between summer and autumn. We drink what somebody brewed neither I nor you nor a third: we lap up some empty and last thing. We watch ourselves in the deep sea's mirror and faster pass food to the other: the night is the night, it begins with the morning, beside you it lays me down.

Algo de tal-qual- mão, algo de tenebroso, veio junto com o mato: Depressa -- desesperos, seus oleiros! --, depressa a hora ofereceu o barro, depressa a lágrima estava ganha:-- mais uma vez, com cacho azulado, acercou-nos, este hoje