Quotes About Transience

For we, when we feel, evaporate: oh, we breathe ourselves out and away: from ember to ember, yielding us fainter fragrance.

the knowledge of impermanence that haunts our days is their very fragrance.

In a transient-advantage context, unlike a conventional one, disengaging is not confused with business failure.

my candle burns at both ends it will not last the night but arh my friends and oh my foes it gives a lovely light

Men were foolish and were made only so that they should die, while mountains and rivers went on for ever and did not notice the passing of time.

Each sunrise is a precious jewel . . . for it may never be followed by its sunset.

Just when we are safest, there's a sunset touch, A fancy from a flower-bell, someone's death, ... The grand Perhaps!

time fleets, youth fades, life is an empty dream

But to have seen thee, and to die so soon!

But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, it's bloom is shed; Or, like the snow-fall in the river, A moment white, then melts forever.

On the abyss's edge we slide and soon will plunge head first; our life is given us with our death – and we, when we are born, begin to die. Without an ounce of pity, death strikes all things, brings to nothing stars, and suns are quenched by her cold breath – destroyer of the universe.

For all its rooted loveliness, the world has no continuing city here; it is an outlandish place, a foreign home, a session in via to a better version of itself-and it is our glory to see it so and to thirst until Jerusalem comes home at last. We were given appetites, not to consume the world and forget it, but to taste its goodness and hunger to make it great.

Everything in life was transitory, enjoy the moment.

The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift, The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift, And the hoof-prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee, Expend their bloom in vain. Come over the hills and far with me, And be my love in the rain.

I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue 15 Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you.

So dawn goes to day Nothing gold can stay

Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.

So beautiful and strange and new! Since it was to end so soon, I almost wish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once more and go on listening to it for ever.

The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.

Baba Ayub didn't understand. Just as he didn't understand why a wave of something, something like the tail end of a sad dream, always swept through him whenever he heard the jingling, surprising him each time like an unexpected gust of wind. But then it passed, as all things do. It passed.

Las malas hierbas del desierto siguen con vida, pero la flor de primavera florece y se marchita. Qué gracia, qué dignidad, qué tragedia.

Buruienile desertului isi duc mai departe traiul, dar florile de primavara infloresc si se ofilesc. Atata gratie, atata demnitate, ce tragedie!

Las malas hierbas del desierto siguen con vida, pero la flor de primavera florece y se marchita.

The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.' Such grace, such dignity, such a tragedy.